Following My Name
by Aurorajaye
Summary: Teenaged Drizzle seeks her birth parents. Her strongest lead is Broadway star Rachel Berry. When Rachel reconnects with Puck, the chemistry sizzles, but is a relationship possible? What's up with the rest of the Gleeks and Glocks? For ChamberlinofMusic.
1. Chapter 1

**Dedicated to Chamberlin of Music, who left the 100th review of my story, "Limelight" (and several other reviews, too.) It was supposed to be a one-shot, but this plotbunny took off! You can't tell from chapter 1, but I promise it's going to be Puckleberry. **

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I'm sure when Ms. Wilson created this English assignment, she had no idea the trouble it would create. We were supposed to an essay on our names: their meanings, the story of how we got our names, and our names' effects on our identities. The assignment would, eventually, take me from the local library to New York and LA, and my life would never be the same.

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The first part if Ms. Wilson's assignment easy: my name is Dreama Ziv. Dreama is an English derivation of "dream," but my parents picked it because it's Greek for "joyous music." Ziv is Hebrew for "light." My dad is Jewish, and he picked it out. Technically, those are my names, but everyone calls me "Drizzle."

When I was little and people asked about my name, I just shrugged and said, "It's pretty!" When I first saw the Disney cartoon Cinderella, I hated having a name so similar to that of an ugly stepsister. When we learned about weather in elementary school, everyone laughed when the teacher said that drizzle is "a fine, misty rain." Adults sometimes asked me whether it had to do with a rapper from the 1900s, Snoop Dog. I told them my nickname had just evolved from my first and middle names. Until this assignment, I thought that was the truth.

"No," my dad corrected, reading my first draft over my shoulder, "It was the other way around."

"What? My first and middle names evolved from my nickname? How is that even possible?"

"Sweetie," Mom replied, "It's what your birth parents called you before you were even born. The first time we heard it, we thought it was hilarious, but it just…stuck. We knew we didn't want to put 'Drizzle' on your birth certificate, though, so we came up with names that meant something to us—names that we thought would mean something to you—that went well with the nickname."

"Ha! Because 'Dreama' is so much more normal than 'Drizzle.' Nice work," I said, sarcastically.

When I was four or five, my best friend Megan lost a tooth while I was spending the night at her house. Her mother got out Megan's baby book to record the event. We looked at each page, and I realized that her book had pictures mine didn't: pictures of Megan's mom with a pregnant tummy; and pictures of Megan's mom in a hospital bed, Megan's dad sitting on the edge while they held a brand-new Megan. I came home and asked to see picture of when I was still in my mommy's tummy. Mom and Dad explained that I actually had two sets of parents: the ones who created me and gave birth to me, and the ones who chose me, adopted me and raised me.

Mom opened a special box that she kept on a high shelf in her closet. She took out some pictures and letters. The first picture was of a pretty blonde girl and a handsome boy with a really weird haircut. The pregnant girl had her hands on her round belly. Mom told me they were Quinn and Noah, and pointed out that I had her hair, and his smile. The second picture was of the couple holding a tiny baby. The baby was pink and crying. So were the boy and girl.

Mom had tried to read me the letter, but she started to cry, so Dad had taken over for her:

"Dearest Daughter,

We wish we could keep you with us, and raise you. We love you so much. Everyone does. That's how special you are: you're not even born yet, and so many people already love you. Most of all, Sharon and Josh love you. We worked really hard to find the right parents for you. Sharon and Josh promise never to leave you, and that they'll give you the love and support you need. They promise to laugh with you, and play with you, and to sing with you. They can give you all the things we can't. Please know, though, that we love you, no matter what.

Love, Quinn and Noah"

* * *

When I was older and wanted to know more about my birthparents, my mom pulled out a DVD of my birth.

About a dozen high schoolers paced in a waiting room with my mom, a guy with curly hair, and a lady with red hair and the biggest brown eyes I've ever seen. Dad was running the video camera. One of the girls started to sing softly, and soon everyone joined in with tight harmony: _"Sometime in our lives, we all have pain. We all have sorrow. But, if we are wise, we know that there's always tomorrow. Lean on me, when you're not strong, and I'll be your friend. I'll help you carry on. For, it won't be long 'til I'm gonna need somebody to lean on."_

When they got to the loud section (_"You just call on me, brother, when you need a hand…") _a nurse rushed in: "Hey! Patients are resting! This is a hospital waiting room, not a glee club!"

The teens all burst out laughing, and the curly haired man exclaimed, "Guys!" The kids quieted down, and the man turned a dimple-exposing smile to the nurse. "Singing keeps them calm and occupied. You know, out of your hair. Would quieter songs be okay?"

Clearly charmed, the nurse blushed and replied, "Sure. Just as long as they're _quiet._"

I could tell Dad was laughing as he filmed, because the camera shook a little. Then, Noah rushed in.

"Sharon, Josh, you're up. I'm taking a breather."

He stopped when he saw a really tall boy across the room.

"Dude, you came?"

"Yeah man. I wasn't going to, but…it's Drizzle, you know."

"I know, man."

Then the boys did one of those awkward guy hugs where they have to slap each other's backs the whole time.

The next scene on the video was in the delivery room. Mom was holding my BioMom Quinn's hand and dabbing her face with a washcloth. Noah was holding her other hand.

"I want my mom," Quinn said, weeping.

"I know you do, sweetie," my mom told her, soothingly, stroking Quinn's hair.

"No, you don't," Noah replied. "She's an alcoholic bitch who threw you out when you needed her."

"PUCK!" The first time I saw the video, I was amazed that my parents didn't edit that part out.

"You know who you want? Berry."

"Wha-what? Why would I want Man-hands in here?"

"You're scared that something will go wrong, right? Would Berry stand for that? Besides, you need a distraction, and Berry drives you nuts."

"Fine. Get Rachel."

So Noah ran out and returned with a tiny girl with really shiny brown hair. The doctor and nurses tried to tell her there were too many people in the room already, but she started saying stuff about how she had two gay dads and connections with the ACLU, and she would file a lawsuit, and…

"FINE!" the obstetrician finally proclaimed.

The tiny brunette smiled in satisfaction, pulled a checklist out of her pocket and began shooting a series of questions and demands at the doctors and nurses, who looked both baffled and annoyed. Soon, Quinn had been given a fresh cup of ice chips and a fluffier pillow. Then, a tough contraction hit.

"Some music would help! Where's your iPod?" Rachel asked.

"I couldn't find it," Quinn exclaimed, sniffling.

"That's okay. Noah and I will sing to you. What do you want us to sing?"

"Over the Rainbow?"

"I ain't singing that! I, um, don't know the words," Noah claimed. Rachel rolled her eyes at him.

"I love that song, Quinn! Let's sing it together." The blonde and brunette started to sing, and it was so beautiful. Mom started crying, and the nurse who looked annoyed a second earlier looked blown away by their talent. Quinn sang the melody, and Rachel the harmony until a contraction made it impossible for Quinn to keep singing. Rachel switched to the melody and kept going, though softer, looking in Quinn's eyes. The contractions were getting closer together, making it impossible for Quinn to sing. In the end, it was just Rachel: _"Birds fly over the rainbow. Why, oh, why, can't I?"_

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"That girl's on Broadway, now," Mom had told me during that first viewing.

"Really?"

"Yes. She even won a Tony."

(She has more than one, now.)

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"This time, Noah and I will sing to you. If you want, just join in when you can. What would you like?"

"One of Mr. Shue's Beatles songs," she said. "Blackbird."

"Like on that old episode of ER?" Noah asked.

"ER? Puck what are you even talking about?" Quinn exclaimed, sharply. Then she moaned.

"Less talking, more singing, Noah," the tiny brunette demanded, then in a clear, lovely voice sang, _"Blackbird singing in the dead of night…"_ She took his unoccupied hand in hers.

He rolled his eyes, but joined in. I was surprised by his voice. It was rougher than Quinn's or Rachel's, but just as good in its own way. _"Take these broken wings and learn to fly." _Then they sang together, and it gave me goose bumps:_ "All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise…"_

When the song was over, Rachel didn't call for another. She just looked at Quinn, who was sobbing.

"You can do this," she said firmly. "You think this is hard? You cheered under the coaching of Sue Sylvester. That's hard!"

Quinn laughed through her tears. "Shut up, Rachel."

"Wait, you know my name?"

Quinn laughed again, but mid-giggle, another contraction hit, and she yelled.

My mom gasped in pain, "Wow, Quinn! You've got quite a grip."

"No kidding," Noah added. "Good thing I'm a badass or that might have hurt!"

The rest was like any sitcom-birth-episode cliché. Quinn told Noah (aka "Puck") how much she hated him. She screamed and cried. Rachel tried to start a new song as distraction, but Quinn threatened to rip out her vocal chords. Then Quinn started crying about how she didn't have a mom.

"I know it's no consolation, but neither do I," Rachel said. "_You're_ a good mom, though, Quinn. You and Noah are good parents, because you picked Sharon and Joshua for Drizzle."

"God, I can't believe we're still calling her…" Contraction. "…Finn's stupid name!"

"I admit, it is unorthodox, but unusual names can be an asset to a star-in-the-making. You both are so athletic and good-looking. You're also talented singers, although your voices aren't as trained as mine." She turned to my mom and said, "You really should consider getting her into dance and voice lessons at an early age, because…"

"Seriously, Berry?" Noah asked. "Not the time."

"Oh, sorry. Of course it's not. My point was just that my sixth sense tells me we have a star on our hands."

Rachel had Quinn laughing despite the pain. Soon the doctor announced that he saw my head, and with some more pushing and grunting and screaming, I was born. As the nurse was cleaning me off, Rachel announced that she was returning to the waiting room.

"Hey, Berry," Noah called out, "Thanks." She dashed back, threw her arms around his waist and hugged him, then pressed a kiss on Quinn's sweaty cheek and dashed out.

After cleaning me off, the nurse asked who would hold me first. "Quinn will," my mom said.

They put me in Quinn's arms, and she looked kind of…wrecked. But then, she put on a brave face and sang again:

_"Who knows how long I've loved you? You know I love you still. Will I wait a lonely lifetime? If you want me to, I will. For if I ever saw you, I didn't catch your name. But it never really mattered. I will always feel the same. Love you forever and forever. Love you with all my heart. Love you whenever we're together. Love you when we're apart." _

Quinn started weeping, and my mom was crying, too. Mom stroked Quinn's damp hair and started singing with her, even though my mom is tone-deaf: _"And when at last I find you, your song will fill the air. Sing it loud so I can hear you. Make it easy to be near you, for the things you do endear you to me. Oh, you know, I will. I will."_

Noah held me. He paced back and forth, whispering something in my ear. Eventually, he handed me to my mom and took the camera from my dad. Then they were holding me, telling me I was beautiful, and that they were my Mom and Dad.

* * *

I just finished watching the video for just the first time in many years. My mom saw the tears on my face and handed me a box of tissues.

"See why we named you Dreama Ziv?"

I nodded, adding, "But I still don't get why they decided to call me Drizzle."

"The tall boy Puck hugs at the beginning of the video? He came up with it. He told me, 'you know how awesome it is when it's just drizzling outside, but it's not really rain, so it smells like rain but you don't need an umbrella to go outside? Drizzle. It's original and poetic.'

"Quinn hated it at first, but she said she couldn't just keep thinking of you as 'the baby,' and she didn't want to give you a 'real' name, because she knew you weren't hers. Eventually, their friends in the glee club picked up Drizzle, and that's been your name ever since. And you're Dreama because your nine months with Quinn were full of joyful music. Ziv because you were a bright light in our lives. We tried so hard to have a baby, and then we worked so hard to adopt. When we met Puck and Quinn, we knew they were the ones. She was Christian, like me, and he was Jewish, like your dad. They were smart, and feisty, and so protective of you. Eventually, they picked us, and I thank God every day that they did."

"How do we know so much about them? I thought adoptions kept all that secret."

"Actually…actually, it was supposed to be an open adoption. That means the adoptive parents and the biological parents work out terms that allow the biological parents some role in the child's life. After two months, though, they told me they couldn't get updates or visit anymore. They said every time they saw you, they wanted to take you back, even though they knew you belonged with us. It broke their hearts every time. But the most important thing to them, besides being sure you were taken care of, was making sure you knew that you were wanted, and that they gave you up so that you could have a better life. That's why they gave me the letters."

"Oh," I said, stunned. "Wait, there's another letter?"

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**AN- Thank you for reading and reviewing. It means so much to me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the delay. I have limited time to write/access to the internet right now. I'm touched by your response to this fic so far! Thanks for reading.**

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I entered the words into a search engine: Noah, Puck, Finn, Rachel Berry, choir. I knew my parents lived in Ohio back then, so I added that to the search string. Mostly what I found were articles about Broadway star Rachel Berry. In her first Tony acceptance speech, she had thanked "Mr. Shuester and the New Directions glee club from my _alma mater, _William McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio. You taught me that relationships are as important as the spotlight; that love and friendship make the limelight shine brighter." Some reporters had asked her about the comment, so she told them stories of diva-offs, stolen set-lists and interpersonal dramas that, in the end, made them stronger as singers and as a choir. Her senior year, they finally won the national championship.

I tried to use that information to track down more data on my bioparents, but it wasn't that helpful. Old articles from 2012 only mentioned the director, Will Shuester, and the soloists by name. Finn's last name was Hudson, apparently. Group photos confirmed that my parents were in the choir, though. If Mom and Dad took me to Ohio on vacation, I could maybe sneak off to Lima and check out old yearbooks in the public library, so I asked them if we could go visit Grandma.

"Actually, sweetie," Mom said, "We thought we'd get a motel room in the city and check out some of the performing arts schools you're so interested in. Maybe see a few shows?"

"REALLY? Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I knew it was a long shot, but I really wanted to go to NYU or Julliard. Mom started me in singing and dance lessons when I was a little girl. She'd always said I could quit any time I wanted, but I loved them so much that I never wanted to. It's all I want to do for the rest of my life. As a family, we occasionally took day-trips from our home in Connecticut to NYC, but I'd never gotten to stay there for more than one night. Now, I'd get to stay there for a week, looking at schools!

Then it occurred to me: _Rachel Berry is in Manhattan. _

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"Rachel?" the assistant stage manager asked, knocking on her dressing room door.

"Yes, Mark?" Rachel replied while removing her makeup.

"There's a kid here to see you."

Rachel smiled. "I'll be out to sign autographs and take some pictures in just a minute."

"That's what I told her," he said, "But she said she really needs to talk to you in private. She said, 'Tell her it's Drizzle.'" Mark sounded amused by the girl's name, but quickly noticed the look on Rachel's face. Rachel Berry had mellowed a tad over the years. Getting to immerse herself daily in on-stage drama lessened her need for it off-stage. Still, it was in her nature to occasionally react with extreme emotion to life's bumps and bruises. Mark had never seen her react like this, though. She went pale, and her hands were shaky.

"My phone. Where's my phone?" She dumped the contents of her purse onto her vanity and grabbed her cell. Then she pushed 1 on the speed dial. "Pick up, pick up, pick up!" she chanted.

"What's up, crazy?"

"Noah, she's here. Drizzle is HERE and she wants to talk to me. What do I do? What do I tell her?" There was no sound on the other end. "NOAH? Are you still there?"

"She's in the room with you?"

"No. She's at the stage door, but I was going to have Mark let her in. Unless you think I shouldn't? Noah, what do I do?"

"Rach, answer whatever you feel comfortable answering. If she wants to meet me, then call me back and I'll be there, okay? Whatever she wants. And if she doesn't…maybe…"

"Maybe what, Noah?"

Mark wondered what the man on the other side of the line had said to Rachel. He had never heard her voice sound that way, not even in her tenderest moment onstage.

"Take a picture for me?"

"Of course."

Mark was amazed to hear her voice get even gentler as her eyes welled up with tears. She said her goodbyes, hung up, and asked Mike to bring Drizzle backstage as she dabbed a tissue under her eyes.

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The door clanked open, and a thin, balding man leaned out. "Drizzle? Ms. Berry said she'd love to see you. Come on back," he said. The other fans waiting with cameras, Playbills and pens in hand looked at me enviously. My heart was beating so loud in my ears that it blocked the noises of traffic, cars honking, people talking, pigeons flapping and cooing—all the sounds of New York. I stepped away from the other fans, toward the man and the door that might lead to the answers to every question I'd been asking myself since I was a little girl.

The man who let me in opened the door to Rachel Berry's dressing room. She looked more like the girl in the video of my birth than the woman I'd seen on the awards shows, or on stage singing "People Will Say We're In Love."

"Thanks, Mark," she said, and the man smiled before leaving, closing the door behind him. Then her big brown eyes focused on me, looking me up and down. "This is so unreal," she said, breathily. "Drizzle…how did you…"

"There's a video from when I was born. My parents mentioned you by name, and then you came to the delivery room and sang with them."

"I remember," she said, smiling with tears in her eyes.

"I want to find them. Can you help me?"

I wouldn't have thought it possible, but her smile got bigger as the tears in her eyes fell. "Yes. You can meet your dad today, if you want."

"What?" my knees went weak, but she grabbed my arms just in time and eased me into a chair. _Tony-winning Broadway star Rachel Berry just caught me! And I'm about to meet my dad?_ It was beyond surreal. "Today?"

"Yes. I called him the minute Mark told me your name. He wants to see you, but only if it was what you want."

"My bio-dad is here? In Manhattan?" All this time, he'd been just a train ride away. Sometimes, we'd probably been in Manhattan at the same time, walking the same streets.

"Noah is here. But what about you? How are _you _here? Where are your mom and dad?"

"They're at the hotel. I told Mom I could handle waiting for autographs by myself. Although I had to pretend I had a crush on the guy who plays Curly."

She laughed. "Why did you have to do that?"

"I didn't want my parents to know I remember you from the video, and that I'm tracking down my bio-parents. I don't want to hurt their feelings."

"I understand completely," she said.

"You do?" I asked, incredulously.

"Mmm-hmm," she replied. "I went through the same thing when I looked for my 'bio-mom,'" she said with a little laugh, "although it would have been a lot easier on all of us if everyone involved had just been honest. Some feelings might have been hurt, but it wouldn't have been so…messy." Rachel Berry shuddered at that. I wondered what had happened, but before I could ask, she whipped out her phone. "You're sure this is what you want to do, Drizzle?"

"Yes!"

Then she beamed me the brightest smile I'd ever seen and dialed. "Noah, someone wants to meet you!"

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**Review, please! I really appreciate every single one.  
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	3. Chapter 3

**I was told the prior chapter was too short. This one? Isn't.

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After our talk, Rachel had asked if I would mind waiting while she met with fans. "I owe my career to them, you know?" I nodded, and watched from the door while she talked to them, signing playbills and posing for pictures. After a little while, I let the door close and wandered around. I soaked up everything: the props tables, the hair and makeup stations, the costumes and wigs. Then I wandered out onto the stage. The houselights were up, and the house was empty, but the experience was magical nonetheless.

I wanted to sing. No, not "wanted to."_ Had to. _I had to sing. My brain raced a million miles an hour to find the perfect song to show what I felt right then about my parents and my bio-parents. Then I thought, _screw that! _I decided to sing about how it felt to be standing on a Broadway stage instead.

_"Let me entertain you. Let me make you smile," _I sang, tentative at first, just like Gypsy Rose Lee. What if I got caught? What is someone got mad or—worse—laughed at me? Again, I reminded myself, _Screw it! How many people get to do this? I might never get to again! _So I went for it. _"Let me do a few tricks, some old and then some new tricks, I'm very versatile!" _ I used the whole stage, vamping it up for my imaginary audience, seducing them with shimmies and dips: _"And if you're real good, I'll make you feel good! I want your spirits to climb! So let me entertain you! And we'll have a real good time, yes sir! We'll have…a real good time!"_

Instead of silence, I was greeted with applause, and whipped around to see Rachel Berry in the wings. "That was wonderful!" she exclaimed with a mirthful giggle. I see your mom took my advice about the lessons. I knew you were a star in the making; I just _knew_ it! And that song choice? You are certainly Noah's daughter. I mean, it's obvious in the eyes and the lips, but when you turn on the seduction?" She waggled her eyebrows and dissolved into laughter, but the good kind, not the mean kind. "Come on, we have reservations! Noah wanted to meet at La Paloma, but that is ridiculous. Yes, their burritos are economical and astonishingly good, but it is not the place for intimate discussion!"

"Thanks, Ms. Berry."

"Rachel! Please, call me Rachel. Won't your parents worry when you're not back?"

"I decided you were right, so I called and told them what I was doing…kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Well…I told them I was getting autographs, told you my name, and you recognized me...at which point I remembered you from the video."

"Not quite the truth, but it's a start," she said with a nod.

"Anyway, I told Mom I was curious and wanted to ask you questions about my bio-parents, but only if it was okay with her and dad. She said, 'Of course, sweetie, if you're sure you're not bothering Ms. Berry.'"

"You're not at all!" Rachel assured me.

"I know, but could you maybe…call my mom?"

Rachel gulped, but nodded. "What, exactly, am I calling about?"

"Maybe you could ask her if it's okay if I meet my dad? That way my parents feel like they have some control in the matter?"

"What if they say no?"

"I'll meet him anyway. It's just…if they say 'yes,' it doesn't have to be a secret."

She sighed, but agreed. I dialed my mom again. "Mom, Rachel Berry wants to talk to you. Yes, 'seriously.' Why would I kid about that? No, I'm sorry, Mommy. I'm not trying to give you attitude." I rolled my eyes. "Here she is." I handed the phone to Rachel.

"Hello, Sharon? It's Rachel Berry. I apologize for springing this on you. I know you and Noah and Quinn had some kind of arrangement. When I saw Drizzle, though, and heard her name, even my years of experience as an actress were no match for my astonishment. When she saw my reaction, your clever daughter put the pieces together. Listen, Drizzle doesn't know this…" She winked at me. "…but I'm still in touch with Noah, and I know he would love to meet her. In fact, I was going to invite him to have dinner with us tonight. However, I don't want to make that offer if you and Joshua don't approve." There was a long pause. "Yes. I know they felt that way _then_, but I also know that he regretted that decision. If this happens, Noah will be back in her life for good, though in a manner that respects your role as Drizzle's parents. Mm-hmm. Of course. I understand completely." My heart sunk. What was mom saying? "Sure! I'll go get Drizzle and put her on."

Rachel put her hand over the receiver and grinned at me while she waited long enough to pretend that I hadn't been standing there listening the whole time.

"Mommy?"

"Drizzle, Ms. Berry is in contact with your biological father, Noah. She says she can arrange for you to meet him if you would like. Is that something you want?" I jumped up and down and tried to hide the extreme excitement from my voice.

"Yes, Mom, I want to meet him."

"Okay. You know your dad and I always supported having Noah and Quinn in your life. Honey, she says you can meet him tonight for dinner. Are you ready for that?"

"Yes!" I said, unable to hide my excitement.

Mom laughed. "We should come with you."

"Mom…" I wasn't sure how to say this. "Mom, can I meet him this first time by myself? I love you and I love Daddy, but meeting Noah with you watching…I…it would be…I don't want to say anything or do anything that…"

"Okay," Mom said, sounding a little hurt. "I understand. You want this to be a private moment, just for you, when you can feel whatever you need to feel without worrying about your dad and me."

_Ouch. Mom is so right it hurts. _"Mom, I…"

"Honey, it's okay. Just call us if you need anything, and come straight back to the hotel after."

"Okay. I love you more than anything, Mom—you and Daddy. I'll see you later. Bye."

Mom said goodbye and hung up the phone. Without even thinking about it, I pulled my blonde hair into a high ponytail using the band around my wrist. Suddenly Rachel's jaw dropped.

"Quinn!"

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry," she said. "With the ponytail…you just reminded me that I forgot to tell Quinn."

"With the ponytail?" I asked, but she was already pacing and dialing her own cell phone.

"Noah! No, she hasn't changed her mind. In fact, we even checked with Sharon and Joshua, and they approved the meeting. No, I'm not going to say 'I told you so!' Because what's done is done and I'm not petty! Well, you can't change that, so please focus on what's happening right now. You need to call Quinn and bring her up to speed! Okay. See you soon."

"Why would you say, 'I told you so?'"

"When you were a baby, Noah and Quinn visited you occasionally. When the visits ended, you would cry and they would cry. They got pictures and updates from Sharon and Joshua, and Noah would be tense for days after. Quinn would be depressed. They decided to break contact for a while. Eventually, Noah decided he wanted to see you again, but he was afraid that Joshua and Sharon wouldn't approve, or that it would be hard on you. I told Noah your parents agreed to let him in your life from day one, so if it were clear to them that his presence would be consistent, they would welcome him with open arms."

Then she glanced down at her cell phone, saw the time and gasped. "We'll have to hurry if we want to get to Carmine's on time." We rushed back to her dressing room. She finished changing into a gorgeous red pencil skirt, black tanktop, a cardigan in red and black argyle, and black kitten heels—very sexy librarian. She brushed her shiny hair and finished primping for dinner. I looked at myself in the mirror: my favorite jeans, purple Chucks and soft black Ramones shirt (they're a punk band from way back in the 1980s). Then she quickly ran a brush through my ponytail, advised me to touch up my lipgloss and declared, "Hello, Gorgeous!"

Then we quickly exited the theater and snaked through the rush of pedestrians to Carmine's. The smell of Italian food hit me when we walked in the door, and my mouth began to water. The maitre d' rushed over: "Ms. Berry! It's an honor. Right this way!" He guided us to somewhat-secluded table. Rachel squeezed my hand.

My birth-father stood as we approached. He was kind of tall and quite muscular: the most handsome person I'd ever met. He wore jeans, an untucked green button-front shirt and a black leather jacket. I crossed over to him. I was about to hold out a hand to shake, but at the last second, I hugged him instead. He embraced me gently for a second before crushing me to his chest. We were kind of rocking back and forth. Eventually, he let me go. I was crying a little. Rachel was crying a lot. Even Noah had to clear his throat and swipe away a tear.

"You look good," he finally said. Rachel warned me he was a man of few words.

"Thanks," I replied. "So do you."

"I like your shirt. The Ramones were badass."

"Totally!" I replied, and we sat. Waiters brought food to the table in large dishes for us to pass and serve ourselves from. For a while we were occupied by dishing up salad, clams, lasagna and penne alla vodka. Rachel was happy to fill the silence between bites, chattering about that evening's performance and how happy she'd been to meet me.

"So," I finally piped up, "Can I ask you two some questions?"

"Yeah," Noah said, sounding nervous. He tugged at the cuffs of his jacket, then ran his hand over the center of his hair. It reminded me of the video: he'd had a Mohawk, and he'd run his hand over it, nervously. Rachel reached over and took his hand. Noah's thumb caressed her hand in wide half-circles spanning from the back of Rachel's hand to her inner wrist. She leaned closer to him.

"Are you two a couple?"

"No," Rachel said. "We're just friends. Best friends."

I raised an eyebrow, because my best friend and I? We do not hold hands like that. "Okay," I said, deciding not to push it…yet. "What do you do?"

"I'm a session musician. When artists need someone to help out on a recording or performance, they hire me. I mostly play guitar and piano, and I sing."

"He's also is a rather popular local band," Rachel said proudly.

"Yeah, well, I'll never be a famous rock star, but I get to do what I love and still pay the bills," he said, shrugging.

"And he's agreed to sing a duet with me on my new album!" Rachel exclaimed.

"Good," I said. "You two sound amazing together. It gives me chills."

Noah looked puzzled, so Rachel reminded him of the video my dad made of the birth. "What song was it, Noah? I know Quinn and I sang 'Over the Rainbow,' and you pretended not to know the words."

"'Blackbird,' Rach. We sang 'Blackbird.'"

From Rachel's smile, I suspected she'd known the answer all along. She just wanted to hear him say it.

"So, what brought you to New York?"

"Berry. First, she made me take piano lessons. Then she made me apply to college to get better at music. I ended up at OSU. I got a pretty big scholarship to do both vocal and instrumental, but double-majoring? They busted my ass for years. They even made me learn to sing opera!"

"The horror!" Rachel teased.

"Meanwhile, she was running around Manhattan having a good old time. Eventually, she landed a role on Broadway and dropped out of college. But was _I _allowed to drop out of college? _No."_

"Noah, I was not 'running around Manhattan having a good old time.' I was swamped with acting lessons, dance lessons and voice lessons. Julliard doesn't leave a lot of time for running around! And I only quit because my advisor encouraged me to do so. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"

Rachel later explained to me that they had been workshopping a revival of 'Funny Girl.' Barbra Streisand's take on Fanny Brice was so iconic that no one else had wanted to attempt it. While Rachel was in college, though, the 50th anniversary of the show had been approaching and R.A. Gindi, known as 'The King of Off-Broadway,' decided to gamble for his chance at the big-time. Rachel had made it through a slew of auditions, just to win the right to _workshop _the role of Fanny Brice. Since audiences had become so enamored with the film version of 'Funny Girl,' the show-runners were attempting to reconcile the differences between the versions. Rachel had been sure they would replace her at the last second with a big-name star. The problem was, most established stars were either wrong for the part or afraid of Babs. Besides, by that point Rachel knew the part inside and out, so they finally offered her the role, not just in the out-of-towns or an off-Broadway run, but the honest-to-God lead on the Broadway stage.

Noah just laughed. "Anyway," he said, "I eventually graduated and she convinced me to move out here to be a musician, and I convinced her to loosen up a little. Okay, what else you got?"

I took a deep breath. "Was it my fault you and Quinn broke up?"

"No! No. Um…t_echnically_, Quinn and I weren't really a couple. Are you sure you want to know about this stuff?"

I nodded, eagerly.

"Noah, are you sure that's appropriate?"

"Berry, she's in high school. She knows how it works, and I'm not going to lie to my kid! Drizzle—do people seriously call you that, or did you just use it to get through to Berry?"

"No one calls me Dreama unless I'm in trouble, or it's a teacher on the first day of class or whatever."

"Freakin' Hudson. Okay, I had a thing for your mom, but she was dating my best friend, Finn. But one night she was sad and we were drunk. We had sex, she got pregnant, and she decided to have you. I wanted to keep you, but she convinced me that you'd have a better life if we gave you up. When we found Sharon and Josh, they seemed cool and like they'd take really good care of you. They did, right?" He looked really nervous when he said the last three words and stared at me intensely.

"Yeah. Mom and Dad are awesome," I said, honestly. Like any parents, they can be annoying or embarrassing, but they always do their best to make sure I'm happy and healthy.

He sighed in relief. "And I don't want you to think Quinn was a slut or something. I was, but she wasn't. It was some kind of fluke. As far as I know, the night we made you was the only time she slept with anyone except the guy she ended up marrying. Not that there's anything wrong with being a slut."

"Noah!" Rachel exclaimed.

"What? The kid's got my genes! I'm not saying she _should _be sleeping around. I'm just saying if she _is,_ then…no judgment. Although I have this weird desire to punch every boy in this place who checks her out."

"There are boys checking me out? Where?" I asked, trying to look around subtly.

He groaned, and Rachel and I giggled.

This was going better than I could have dreamed, so I decided to go for broke: "Is Quinn in New York, too?"

"No. She's in L.A. I…haven't reached her yet," Noah said, although his tone and facial expression darkened.

_She doesn't want to hear from me, _I realized. "Oh," I said, trying not to feel crushed.

"It takes Quinn a while to process things, Drizzle," Rachel said. "It took her months to let Noah be a part of your life. She'll call." My bio-dad raised an eyebrow at her, as if to say _don't make promises you can't keep. _"She'll come around," Rachel repeated, nodding resolutely, and I suspected if it didn't happen on its own, Rachel Berry would make it happen.

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**Please take a moment to review. I adore reviews!  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I can't believe I started this story a million years ago, before Puck sang "Beth," before they gave Beth to Shelby…time flies. Well, I've decided to plow on with my once-abandoned-now-AU story. This is me, kicking it back into gear. Hope you enjoy it. (Puckleberry fans, I swear to ramp that element up ASAP).**

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"Hey, Q. Call me. It's important."

"Press seven to save this message, nine to delete," the electronic lady said. Quinn hit 9.

"Quinn, it's Rachel Berry calling. We must discuss…" She hit 9 again.

"Quinn? Rachel again. I must insist you call me immediately, because…" Quinn mashed the 9.

"Quinn, you must be very busy. Too busy to respond via text, e-mail or Skype, but…" Quinn deleted that message, too.

"Aaah!" she screamed with frustration.

"What's wrong?" Finn asked, joining his wife in their bedroom.

"Puckerman and your ex won't leave me alone. They've been texting and e-mailing and leaving voicemail all week."

"What about?"

"I have no idea."

"Okay, Puck doesn't talk much, but Rachel didn't say anything about what she wanted in all those calls and texts?"

"I didn't _listen_ to them! I just deleted them, the way I always do when she calls to brag about her amazing life as a Broadway star."

"Quinn, Rachel usually calls you once a year, on your birthday. Wait, did I miss your…" Quinn glared at him. "No, your birthday's in March. I totally knew that. I'm calling her. What if something's wrong? She's Kurt's emergency contact in New York!" Finn frowned at his wife and whipped out his phone.

"Oh, calm down. If it was about Kurt, she'd have called you, not me."

"I'm still calling them." He dialed Puck, who quickly answered. "Hey, man, what's up?"

"Is Quinn there?" Puck asked. "Put her on the phone. She's been ignoring our messages for a week, and Rachel is _this close _to getting on a plane to _make_ her talk to us."

"Here," Finn said, handing Quinn the phone.

She glared at her husband. She didn't know why this was upsetting her so much. Quinn and Noah Puckerman got along just fine. Actually, by the end of senior year, she'd gotten along decently with Rachel. For some reason, though, this sudden flurry of communication was freaking Quinn out.

Quinn liked her life in southern California. She was a cheerleading coach for Rancho Carne High School, and Finn was a music teacher and assistant coach of the football team. They had a nice little house, two decent cars, they were both in good shape, and they were in love. All their friends were jealous of them. What did she have to fear from Puck or Rachel Berry or a stupid phone call?"

"What is it, Puck?"

"Q, it's about Drizzle."

"Wh-who?" she stuttered.

"Our daughter? She found me and she wants to meet you." Quinn remained silent. "Q, she doesn't want anything. I mean, she's healthy. Sharon and Josh did a good job and everything. She just wants to meet you. Be friends or whatever."

"Friends or whatever?" Quinn squeaked. "Easy for you to say. She can't blame _you. _From day one, you wanted to keep her. _I _was the one who wanted to give her up. _I _was the one who wanted to stop visiting or getting updates. You know what Drizzle really needs from me? The same thing she always needed: not to have me in her life."

Quinn hung up and dropped the phone on the bed. She tried to pretend she wasn't upset, but her chin began to quiver. A hot lump formed in her throat, and her eyes prickled with tears.

"Honey, c'mere," Finn said with his gentlest voice. He wrapped her in his long arms, and she felt so tiny and safe. Quinn began to sob. Finn held her, cradling her head in one hand, rubbing her back with the other. Gradually they began to rock back and forth, and he hummed a song with no words. When Quinn had cried until she felt wrung out, they laid down on the bed together, her head on his broad chest.

"So," he whispered, "Is that why you don't want to have kids?"

"What?" she asked sharply. "What are you talking about?"

It was suddenly clear to him: Quinn didn't think she deserved a child, didn't think she was good enough to be a mom. He decided not to share his discovery directly. Not now, anyway.

"I think you and Puck did the right thing, giving Drizzle to Josh and Sharon. You weren't ready to be parents, and you couldn't have given her what they did. But what would it hurt to get to know her now?" His wife furrowed her brow but didn't respond. Finn brushed some soft strands of blonde hair out of her face. "She just wants to get to be friends, right? Can't blame her. Who wouldn't want to be your friend? You're awesome."

This was why she'd fallen in love with him, all those years ago. Finn Hudson could look at her with those big brown eyes and she felt like the most wonderful woman in the world—not just beautiful, but like she was a good person. It was a lot to live up to, but she loved him, so she tried.

Quinn sat up, grabbed a tissue from the box by the bed and daintily wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "Honey, hand me the phone." She dialed and it only rang once before Noah Puckerman answered.

"Puck? Sorry I freaked out. I've thought it through, and you can give Drizzle my number. Do they really call her Drizzle?"

"I'm glad you came around, Q, but you're a little too late," he replied with a chuckle. "When you hung up on me? Berry bought three plane tickets and booked some hotel rooms. We'll be there next Saturday."

Quinn's whole body tensed for a moment, but she forced herself to relax and sighed. "Just make sure to clear it with Sharron and Josh. I'd rather not get arrested for kidnapping."

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**If anyone is still reading this? Please comment and let me know.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow, quick response! Thanks for the reviews, Calli Wall and bahnannah; the new story alerts, 1booklover11 and Marauderette96; and the favorite, 1booklover11 ! You're awesome.**

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"You met Rachel Berry?" Megan squealed. I couldn't help but laugh. I had been so hard not to text the news or tell her on the phone, but I'd wanted to do it in person, and Megan's reaction was totally worth the wait. As my lifetime best friend, she'd grown up listening to the soundtracks of musicals with me. I loved rock music, too, but Megan was into country; musicals were the one genre we could agree on.

We'd taken the same dance classes, and—even though she wasn't as into singing as I was—were in the same choirs at school. She tried out for plays and musicals so we could hang out. In return, I joined her favorite activity, cheerleading. Sometimes, muscles aching from hours of doing tumbling passes, jumps and builds, I would mutter to her, shaking my pompons, "I hate you." And later, when we were yawning, rushing to do our homework between scenes at play practice, our muscles still aching from cheerleading, she would mutter back, "Hate you more." It had become our thing.

"Focus, Megan! That's so not the point. I met my bio-dad! Here's a pic." I handed her my laptop displaying a picture of my bio-dad, Rachel and me at Carmine's.

"Awesome! Whoa, he is hot!"

"Don't be gross, Megs!"

"I'm not being gross, Drizz. I'm being honest. Total DILF."

"DILF? First of all, nasty. Second of all, okay, _Mom. _How about using some slang from this decade?"

"DILF and MILF are timeless. No word created by our generation so aptly describes hot parents, and your bio-daddy requires…"

"Oh, please stop talking about what Puck requires!"

"Puck? You call your bio-dad Puck? It sounds so dirty: Puck me!"

"Ew. That settles it: I'm definitely calling him Noah from now on. Stop distracting me! I have important news, okay?"

"More important that meeting Puck?"

I regretted slipping that nickname into our conversation, or showing Megan the picture. Hell, I was beginning to regret being her friend, but I forged forward anyway: "Okay, you know how I applied to Juilliard and Mom got me an appointment to tour the place last Monday? When I told Rachel, she totally freaked out. She was all, 'Can I come? The theater's dark Monday; I'll introduce you to my professors. Who wrote your letter of recommendation? Because I can't imagine they're as well-qualified to do so as I am. Wait, are you applying in drama or voice? I had planned on studying voice in the music department, but the great Patti LuPone studied drama, so…' and 'Can I see your headshots? What do you _mean_, you don't have head shots?' and 'We need to start working on your audition piece.'"

"Whoa! That sounds awesome, but…"

"Terrifying? Yeah, when I first met her, she was so sweet. Then she started pulling a total Mama Rose, but Noah was all, 'Whoa, Crazy. I haven't seen you this wound in, like, a decade.' And then? He just starts dancing with her. There wasn't even music playing, and she's looking up at him, all romantic, right? And right when I'm sure they're about to kiss, he's starts singing, 'I used to think maybe you loved me, now baby I'm sure!' And she smacks him, like, 'NOAH!' And he's like, 'Berry had a little substance abuse problem in high school.'"

"Seriously?"

"No. Apparently, they had this insane school nurse who gave them some antihistamines that made everybody hyper, but Rachel's naturally hyper. Noah said it was not good, and that she was starting to act like that again. But on the other hand, _I'd_ be crazy to turn down her help, so while I as in New York we went to a salon, had a photo shoot and went to Juilliard."

"And? Was it everything you dreamed?"

"Better. Scarier, but better. I mean, you walk by the rehearsal rooms, and everyone is so amazing. I mean, they're just _practicing,_ and they're amazing."

"In other words, you'll fit right in."

I laughed. "You're a fabulous friend, you know that?"

"Fabulous enough to get Puck's number?"

"Ew. No, but fabulous enough to get free tickets to Rachel's show in a few weeks."

"YES! Now let me see the headshots."

I handed her one, which she quickly deemed gorgeous. "Oh, but guess what we're doing next weekend? Rachel and Noah are taking me to California to tour UCLA and meet my bio-mom."

"There's more? Megan sighed. "First you get a week in NYC, hanging out with famous people, getting makeovers. Now you get a weekend in LA, and I have to stay in Connecticut alone. I hate you. So what's the bio-mom like? What does she do? Does she have kids?"

"Married to her high school boyfriend. No kids. She's actually a cheerleading coach."

Megan laughed as if that was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. "See, I told you cheerleading would pay off. Now you and bio-mom have something in common."

"I guess," I said, wringing my fingers.

"What's the matter?"

"I don't know. In the video she seemed to really care about me, and she wrote me really nice letters, but something about the way Puck and Rachel talked about her…I mean, at some point, she decided she didn't want to see me anymore. What if she still doesn't and we're just forcing her into it?"

"If she doesn't, then she's crazy, and you're better off without her. But at least you'll know. And you'll still have the DILF and your Broadway-Fairy-Godmother."

"I guess you're right."

"I _know_ I'm right. Now, dish: tell me everything that happened in New York-all the details!"

* * *

"…and we need to think about your name. I know you go by Drizzle, and the name's unusual nature would definitely stick in fans' heads. It would make you stand out on a call list. However, if you're ever in a flop, reporters would have too much fun punning. You know, 'Stormy opening for Drizzle,' and such. I think you should go with 'Dreama Ziv,' as though Ziv were your last name. Klein is a fine last name, but Ziv is unique. You're _cool_, which casting directors will love. I adore Broadway, but it is not necessarily cool. You have crossover potential."

My head was spinning. I must have looked shell-shocked, because my mom wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. We'd just exited the subway and were approaching Noah's apartment. It was my last day in the city, and we were meeting Noah and my dad for supper. Rachel, half a block ahead, stopped on the sidewalk and waited for us to catch up, calling out, "Sorry, I'm walking New York speed. I try to slow down when I have visitors, but sometimes I forget. It drives my fathers nuts. Dad always says, 'It's not a race, Rach!'"

My mom laughed and whispered, "I like her. She's a lot, but I like her."

I laughed, too. "A lot" was mom's term for people with big personalities. She thought Megan was "a lot," too. When we reached the apartment, Rachel used her keys to let us in. I raised my eyebrows at her, and I swear she blushed even though she rolled her eyes at me. The apartment was small for Connecticut, but I suspected it was kind of big for New York. It was just three rooms: the bathroom, Noah's bedroom and a living room with a kitchen area, set off from the rest of the room by a kitchen island. It had tall windows, though, and the living room was just big enough for an upright piano, a couch and two chairs facing an entertainment system. There were also guitars, ukuleles and mandolins in stands tucked everywhere, and a filing cabinet with some sheet music spilling out, some milk crates full of old vinyl records, and a football. It was perfect for Noah. I suspected if I looked in his bedroom, there would be dirty clothes on the floor. That seemed perfect for him, too.

"I think you'll get a kick out of _this_ while I'm cooking!" Rachel exclaimed. She pushed a bunch of buttons on Noah's awesome entertainment system before moving behind the kitchen island. "It's some videos of all of us in show choir back in high school! The old hairstyles and fashions alone should keep you occupied."

"Oh, my god, this is hilarious!" I exclaimed. "What is this, stalker cam?" I proclaimed at the first clip, a shaky recording of a gym. There was just a few kids singing "Push it" in ridiculous suspenders, mimicking oral sex. My dad cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

"Actually, yes! This boy we went to school with recorded it and posted the video on his blog. I found him reprehensible, but his stalking provided me with some performances I wouldn't have otherwise."

"Where's Noah?"

"He hadn't joined yet," Rachel replied.

The beginning notes of "Don't Rain on My Parade" caught Rachel's attention. "Ooh, you can see the stalker, right there!" she exclaimed as her teenage-self perched on the arm of a redheaded woman's seat and lightly touched a poofy-haired young man.

"Who took this video, then?"

"My dads hired a professional, since they couldn't be there in person. And the song we do next? We had half an hour to practice it, because the other choirs stole our songs. Feel free to skip ahead whenever you want, though."

"No way!" I said. A few seconds later, I mumbled, "Um, I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"That," I whined, gesturing at the screen.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "That's just what I was trying to explain earlier. _That_ isn't your style! You aren't a Broadway-style ingénue."

"But all I've ever wanted…"

"Wait," she exclaimed, a bit sharply. "Let me finish. There's a million simpering Broadway-wannabe girls, all of them singing a million over-wrought renditions of 'Tomorrow,' 'On My Own' and 'Memory.' But you'll be different. When Finn, and later Quinn and Noah and the other jocks joined glee, they gave us an edge we didn't have before. It's why we started winning. You'll show them that you've got something no one else has, and later you'll show them your range."

The choir on the screen was now singing The Rolling Stones. I recognized the boy singing lead as Finn Hudson, who had come up with my name. I caught some glimpses of my bio-mom, Quinn. Most of the time, you couldn't tell she had a baby bump.

Noah got to the apartment during 'Somebody to Love.' He opened the door and exclaimed, "Whoa, flashback."

Rachel giggled. "I thought they might enjoy seeing a little footage of you and Quinn before Dreama was born."

There was a transition in the film, and a title card that said "Regionals 2010" The tall kid who named me, Finn, came through a curtain and started singing, "Highway run, into the midnight sun…" Then Rachel came through another curtain and sang her verse. Soon, they were in the middle of an auditorium singing to each other, and… "What is with the crazy vibe?" I asked.

Noah rolled his eyes.

"Right before we went out to sing, Finn had just told me he loved me," Rachel said with a sigh. Then, she started to giggle, and Noah started cracking up, too.

"Why is that funny?"

"Because Rach thought she and Frankenteen were an epic love story."

"Hey!" she exclaimed, mock-offended, "He was your best friend. Besides, some of the greatest love stories end in tragedy."

"Marrying Quinn is a tragedy? I'm gonna tell her you said that."

"Don't you dare!"

"Whoa, back it up," I said. "Rachel was in love with your best friend, Finn, who married Quinn, who had your baby? And now you and Rachel are best friends?"

"Oh, and my other best friend, Kurt, also had a crush on Finn, but their parents got married, so now Finn is his brother. Hmm…when you put it like that it sounds a bit tawdry," Rachel said.

"When you put it like the _whole truth_ it sounds worse," Noah replied.

"There's more?" I squealed, clapping my hands. I don't normally get all girly about gossip, but there is this was irresistible.

"Um, are you sure you should go into this?" Dad finally cut in.

"Oh, man, sorry to be rude." Noah did that nervous tick of his where he runs his hand down the center of his hair. "Josh, Sharon, it's good to see you again." He shook their hands. "Thanks for letting me see Drizzle and for coming to dinner."

"It's our pleasure," Mom said.

"She turned out great. You guys did an awesome job raising her."

I felt my face flush. "Okay, enough of this polite stuff, back to the dirt!"

"Dreama Ziv Klein!" Mom exclaimed.

"Sharon, I don't mind," Rachel replied, calmly. "That is if you two don't mind Drizzle hearing it."

I gave both my parents earnest looks. "I'm a junior. It's not like I don't know about this sort of thing. Also, hearing about some of the pitfalls of risky behavior could help keep me on the straight and narrow."

My parents both laughed at that. "Fine," Daddy said. "Go ahead."

"Frankly," Rachel began, "although our glee club was mocked by the rest of the school, there was an entire blog dedicated to gossip about us. We were an interesting group to say the least. It was a confusing time, and…"

"Berry, let me tell it. You'll take a year! Finn and I were best friends. Finn joined glee and started hitting it off with Rachel. That made his girlfriend, Quinn, jealous. Besides, she had Sue, the insane cheerleading coach making her feel fat. I'd had a crush on her for like a year, and I took advantage. We got drunk on wine coolers and did the deed. Quinn convinced Finn you were his, which he believed for an insanely long time, considering they never had sex."

"Finn believed you'd been conceived when he prematurely ejaculated in a hot tub," Rachel said matter-of-factly as my dad choked on the peanut he'd been eating. "Our school had terrible sex education at that point. Are you okay? Can I get you some water?"

"I'm fine," Daddy wheezed.

"Anyway, Rachel figured out the truth and told Finn," Noah continued. "Eventually, Finn and Rachel got together and broke up over and over. You were born, and then Finn and Quinn got together and broke up over and over. It was like, whenever he was with one of them, he wanted the other one."

"Yes, it's all well and good to mock Finn for believing the hot tub story, but it took me far too long to recognize that pattern," Rachel admitted with a frown.

"Tell me about it. After high school, Finn and Quinn both went to the same college, and after they graduated, they got married and moved to California. They're teachers: Quinn's a cheerleading coach and Finn teaches music. They sing in their church choir."

"That sounds nice," I said, not knowing what else to say.

"Yeah, they seem happy," he replied. His gaze flicked over to the screen. "Man, that was a crazy day. I can't she could dance that well. Leave it to Quinn. Unreal."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"No one told you? That's the day Quinn went into labor. We all rushed to the hospital right after performing, and Rach was the only one who made it back to the competition in time to see her ex-boyfriend and her bio-mom take home the prize."

"But that's another story for another day," Rachel said. She handed each of us a wine glass. Mine held apple juice. "There are a million ways to make a family. Here's to ours," she toasted. We all clinked glasses and drank.

After dinner, I carried my plate toward kitchen area. Noah and Rachel were sliding dirty dishes into soapy water. They were standing inches apart. "I liked your toast," he almost whispered. Their eyes locked, and I swear they were about to kiss when…

"We really should get going," my mom said.

"AH!" I screamed, fumbling my plate. I barely caught it before it hit the floor. Rachel and Noah sprung apart. "God, Mom, you scared me!"

"Apparently! Sorry, Drizz. My, you're wound tonight. Which is why we should be going. You need to get some rest because our train leaves early tomorrow morning."

"Oh, of course," Rachel said, back in perfect hostess mode. She and Noah shook my parents' hands.

"I'll see you soon," Rachel said as she gave me a tight hug. "Eat well, exercise and get plenty of rest. We'll Skype on Monday to discuss your rehearsal pieces. Take care!"

Noah just hugged me, looked deep in my eyes and said, "Thank you."

I kissed his cheek and whispered, "No. Thank _you."_

I swear he sniffled a little, and Rachel slipped an arm around him. They stood in the open door, arms slung around each others' waists, as we descended the stairs, going back to our hotel, then to Connecticut and our normal lives…or so I thought.

**More reviews, pretty please. Your feedback is 1- crack and 2- helpful to me becoming a better fiction writer. Thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6

**NoraMermaid, thank you for the story alert and favorite. TomFeltonLover1991, thanks for the story alert. Calli Wall and bahnannah, thank you for reviewing chapter 5. You, too, zodiac dragonHatori. Thanks for the encouragement!**

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It was Thursday night, and Rachel was having a post-show drink at her favorite Hell's Kitchen bar with Kurt and Puck. Barney's was soothingly dark, and neither crowded, nor loud since it wasn't a peak-tourism-season or a weekend. Rachel sipped a glass of wine. Kurt had an Old Fashioned, and Puck sipped at scotch, neat.

"So long story short…" Rachel said.

"Not really," Puck interrupted.

"They approved my weekend off! Which is good, because I already bought the tickets."

"Yeah, and your understudy gets to perform without poisoning you or whatever, which you know she's thought about."

"Noah, Susan is a perfectly nice girl who would never sabotage another performer."

"Which is why she's the understudy and you're the lead," Kurt said.

"What? I never sabotaged anyone. Not since getting Sandy Ryerson fired sophomore year, and I'm not even sure he counts. I mean, he really was caressing a student." Rachel wracked her brain for a minute. "Okay, not since…Sunshine Corazon junior year. I'm 99 percent sure I haven't sabotaged anyone since then."

"I don't mean that you're literally a saboteur. Well, not anymore. I just mean that you've got talent plus the hunger necessary to fight for stardom. Susan merely has a nice voice and good acting skills. She will do well in your absence, but your job is utterly safe. She is the _perfect_ understudy. Now on to my news: I'm coming to LA, too!" Kurt exclaimed.

"Really?" Rachel squealed in delight.

"Marc Jacobs can do without me for one Friday," Kurt replied. "and I could use some sun. I miss Mercedes and Finn and Quinn. Oh, and Britt-Britt!"

"We're only going for a weekend, Hummel," Puck said. "And the schedule's already tight. Drizzle's touring UCLA and she's meeting Quinn for the first time. Having a bunch of our high school friends around might be weird for her."

"How about a compromise?" Rachel asked. "Kurt comes, but he gets his own hotel room. He can schedule whatever he wants with the LA Gleeks. If Drizzles up to it, maybe we'll join them."

Puck sighed. "Fine."

"I'll go pack," Kurt exclaimed, draining his glass.

"Kurt, buy your tickets first. Then pack," Rachel admonished.

"I already did, and I'm staying with 'Cedes. It's nice to have Puckerman's blessing, but I'm a grown man. I can to LA whenever I want."

"Nice," Puck said, giving Kurt a fist bump.

"You're not annoyed?" Rachel asked. "I swear; I will never understand you two." The men had an uneasy friendship. They only hung out because of Rachel, but they had a certain fondness and respect for each other. They also had a remarkable talent for getting on each other's nerves.

"The more badass Kurt acts, the more I like him."

"Which is funny, because I like 'Noah' when he's being the big old softie we all know he is down deep," Kurt replied.

"See, this shit? This is what I find annoying."

"Okay, happy packing, Kurt. See you at the airport," Rachel said and helped Kurt to his feet. She handed him his jacket and nudged him toward the door, eager to bypass any bickering.

"Fine. But I bet he cries at least once this weekend!" Kurt exclaimed as he stepped out of the bar and onto the 45th Street sidewalk.

"Sad thing is, he's probably right. Until Drizzle showed up, I hadn't cried in years…not counting the time that damn cabbie ran over my foot. Now I'm like a little girl. The other day, I was flipping through the channels and an old episode of Veronica Mars was on. This chick's dad saves her from a fire, and she's all, 'I knew you would come.' I sobbed like a baby. It's ridiculous."

"Aw!" Rachel exclaimed, climbing back up on the bar stool beside Noah's.

"Don't 'Aw' me, Berry. That shit ain't kosher."

"Noah Aaron Puckerman, it most certainly is. Your daughter wanted you back in her life, so she tracked you down, and she likes you. She wants to spend more time with you. It's only natural that you're emotional about that."

"It's weird. I mean, when we gave her up for adoption, I signed these papers saying I didn't have the right to claim her. And when we stopped visiting, it was like really admitting she wasn't mine. And I'm not her dad—not really. Josh is. But…"

"But she _is _kind of yours, too. I get it. I went through the same thing with Shelby. The first time I heard her voice, I knew she was _mine _somehow_. _And then I met her, and she looked like me and was dramatic like me. She even loved stars. But she wasn't my mom. It was confusing. I have a confession: I'm actually a little jealous of Drizzle. You two just took to each other so easily."

"Yeah, well, she hasn't met Quinn, yet, so let's not jinx it. And, whatever, you and Shelby get along great, now."

"Yes, we do. Although I still find it repulsive that you made out with her when she was working at McKinley. I mean, your ex-girlfriend's mother?"

"Are we really going to go over this again? You know I had a weakness for cougars, and she was hot as fuck," Puck said, standing up.

"She looked just like _me_," Rachel scoffed.

"Yep," Puck replied with a wicked grin and took off to use the restroom before Rachel's stunned brain could respond. She knew that she should just find his comment disgusting, but the warmth flushing her face made it evident: part of Rachel Berry was pleased. This was not the first time in their relationship that sparks had flown. It had happened countless times in the many years they'd been friends. Lovers came and went, though, and Noah and Kurt were her family in New York City. If high school was any indication, romance with Noah would just be a passionate fling, and it would take their friendship a long time to recover.

"Get it together, Rachel Barbra Berry. He is not _that _handsome," she muttered to herself.

The bartender, a modelesque 22-year-old blonde in a low cut tank top, paused from wiping the bar: "Don't fool yourself, honey. He totally is."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "See if you still feel that way after he makes out with your mom."

"So he's not your boyfriend? Does that mean he's available?"

"You'll have to ask him yourself."

"Ask me what?" Puck asked, leaning against Rachel's back, one arm on each side of her, hands resting on the bar.

"That answers that," the bartended replied, winking at Rachel.

"Was that chick picking you up?" Noah whispered in her ear. "If so, sorry I cock-blocked you."

"Noah, she was interested in you, not me. Although I must, say, this is some interesting blocking."

"What?"

"In theater, we use body positioning—blocking— to send clear messages to the audience."

"Oh, yeah? What message am I sending?"

Rachel blushed, and she could barely get out the word, "Mine."

He dropped his arms from the bar and wrapped them around Rachel instead. He was hugging her from behind, his lips at her right ear: "Well, aren't you?"

"H-how much did you have to drink before I got here, Noah?"

He released her, straightened up and swiveled Rachel on her stool so they were facing. "I'm not drunk, Berry."

"Then why are you doing this? Why now? What's different from all the other times we just ignored it?"

"I don't know." He slumped down on his stool, and she turned to look at him. "It's like when my dad left…Whatever. And when Quinn and I gave up Drizzle…" He just shook his head. "But like you said, she came back, and she actually…she wants me in her life. So maybe…maybe I can have this, for real Rachel. Maybe _we _can. I never thought I could, but somehow Drizzle makes me believe it. And you believed in me. God, all the way back in McKinley when I was a schmuck who knocked up his best friend's girl, when I was in Juvie, when I made out with your goddamn mother…you never gave up on me. I didn't deserve it, but…but the thing is, I never gave up on you, either. Remember that night you botched that audition and got puking drunk? You told me what Quinn had said: she'd get Finn and you'd get Broadway. You'd be alone, but it wouldn't matter because you'd have your dreams and the city. But I knew you'd be more than that…"

Rachel stopped his words with a kiss, deep and passionate. Noah stood between her legs so he could be closer to her. With Rachel perched on the stool and Puck standing, he didn't have to lean down as far to kiss her as when she was flat-footed. Rachel held tightly to his waist so that she wouldn't topple from her bar stool. Noah slid his hands into her hair, pulling her close. She bit his lower lip, then let it slide slowly from between her teeth. He groaned and swirled his tongue on hers, and Rachel gasped. Noah smirked in response. Rachel placed a hand on his heart, but held him away.

"Sober. If you still feel this way when we're sober, then…" Their foreheads were touching, their breath fast and shallow.

"Come on, I've wanted you forever, and you know it," Noah purred. Rachel blushed. "See? And you know I love it when you blush like that. Okay, fine. You think I just want to be with you because I'm drunk? I'm going to prove you wrong. God, your nose is hot!" Then he swooped in and smooched the tip of her nose. Rachel was still giggling as Noah swept out the door.

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**Want more? Review, please.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow, I'm feeling the love! Listing story alerts has become impractical, but thank you all! Thanks to Calli Wall, lizzybennettdarcy, greekfan14 and gleek30 for commenting on my story and/or naming me a favorite author. I'm honored.  
**

* * *

A bellboy pushed our bags into the room on a brass cart, just like in the movies. He walked around the room, turning on lights and opening doors. Rachel peeked in one room with a queen sized bed. "This one's yours," she said, and the bellhop put my suitcase on a stand inside. Then she frowned when he carried the rest of the bags into the other bedroom, which also had one queen bed. "This was supposed to be two full beds. Did you do this, Puckerman?"

Noah laughed. "No way, Rachel. What am I, 18? If I wanted to get you in bed I'd just…"

She instantly clamped her hand over his mouth before he could finish the sentence. Then she yanked her hand away, grimacing in horror. "Ew, you licked me? Yes, Noah Puckerman, I think you are 18. No, wait, that's an insult to 18-year-olds. You're twelve."

"Ahem…is there a problem? Do you want me to contact the manager?" The bellhop asked. "Unfortunately, we might have trouble finding you a different suite. There's a convention in the hotel."

"No, it's fine, as long as our bill is adjusted accordingly." She got some cash out of her purse and tipped him.

Confession: I'm the one who got the room switched. I dashed straight in from the cab while Noah and Rachel were still unloading. "Bathroom emergency," I exclaimed and made a beeline for the front desk.

"I'm staying in Rachel Berry's suite," I said to the well-coiffed brunette woman behind the counter. "She's my dad's best friend, and they're in love but they're totally clueless. Please, please, please put them in a room with one bed."

"You're trying to hook up your dad? What is this, The Parent Trap?"

"Oh, I love that movie! Well, the Haley Mills version. Mom never let me watch the Lindsay Lohan one. She said it made her too sad. Look, just watch them together for thirty seconds. If you're not convinced that I'm right, fine. And if they really don't want to share I bed, then we'll call down for a hideaway. But they wont ask for one! They'll be all, 'Oh, no! Now we have to sleep together. Nothing we can do about it. Nope. Can't think of a SINGLE ALTERNATIVE.'"

The lady behind the desk said, "Sorry, can't help you. That would be against hotel policy." But then she winked. She must have realized, in the 30 seconds we were checking in, that my assessment was spot-on and switched the rooms. God bless her!

I got the idea from Megan. Megan loves romance, whether in books, movies, TV shows or real life. When I asked her how she'd get Noah and Rachel together, she got out a pad and paper and started listing contrivances used in fiction to get couples together.

"The couple gets drunk, they get trapped together in a confined space, one or both is in danger, one person gets really ill, jealousy, unexpectedly watching a kid together—you've already got that one covered. And…sleeping together."

"I'm trying to _get _them to sleep together."

"No, I mean _literally sleeping._ It's used all the time in books, movies and TV shows. Two people fall asleep on the same couch or bed. They get all snuggly in the night, and then they realize either how attracted to the other person they are or how safe and comfortable they feel with them or both."

"Well, it's less date-rapey than the get-them-drunk method. I'm not going to endanger anyone. Making someone jealous usually leads to a lot of fighting. Also, they told me about some relationship messes they had in high school. Not the way to go."

So I went with the bed thing, which was perfect for our trip, anyway. And was I right or was I right? Even the bellhop left, Rachel suggested I go unpack, and she went to unpack, too. She didn't suggest that she and I should share a bed or that Noah should take the couch. I went into my room but didn't unpack. I've never understood unpacking in hotels. I mean, my suitcase holds my clothes just fine, and I don't have to worry about leaving stuff in the drawers. Instead I closed my door and called Megan.

"So? How's the plan going?"

"Perfectly. Although I gotta say, I think something was already going on with those two. They were actually touching less than usual, but the looks they were giving each other were…"

"Eye sex. Bio-dad and your fairy-godmother were totally having eye sex. Oh, this is perfect."

"Thanks for your help."

"My pleasure. So, you nervous?"

"No."

"Liar. What are you going to wear?"

"I have no idea. What do you wear to meet your bio-mom?"

* * *

I picked up a white sundress, a yellow cardigan and a pair of white wedges I'd borrowed from my Mom. It wasn't very me, but I'd picked it out because it was pretty and perfect like Quinn seemed in my mind. I put it on, then styled my hair in soft curls.

There was a knock at my door. "Almost ready?"

I stepped out.

"Whoa," Noah said.

"That bad?"

"No, it's just…you look like Quinn." He was kind of squinting at me, his full lips pursed. "It's…it's kind of weird, because you don't usually look _that much _like Quinn. I mean, Quinn's pretty. You're pretty. It's just, usually you look like you."

"I don't understand."

"I think," Rachel ventured, "Noah is trying to say that you look lovely, but that this outfit doesn't reflect what we've seen of your personal style. Are you experimenting with a preppier look?"

"I just want her to like me," I said.

"Yeah, _you._" Noah said.

"I've got an idea," Rachel said. "What if you switched the heels for your black flats, and switched out this cardigan for your fitted black hoodie. Then do your normal smudging technique for a softly smoky eye. You'll look lovely, but still like you."

I nodded.

"Besides, Quinn went through a tough-chick phase."

"Really?"

"Yes, but she didn't carry it off half as well as you do. For you it's real. For her it was a protective façade."

I thought about that as I switched shoes and slid on my hoodie. Already I felt more relaxed. I gently smudged my eyeliner, then I threw on red earrings for good measure. Then Rachel grabbed some hair product and quickly pulled it through my hair, her hands deftly working until it looked natural with a hint of edge.

"How do you know how to do that?"

"Oh, when you're just starting out in theater, you often have to do your own hair, makeup and costuming. Getting those elements right helps you get the character right. That's why, pretty as you looked, I couldn't take you to see Quinn and Finn dressed that way. You would have felt out-of-sorts all night."

"Oh, good. Drizzle's back," Noah said from the door. "Nice work, Berry. C'mon, kid. Let's get this over with."

* * *

"Honey? Ellen."

"What?" Quinn asked and stopped straightening the silverware for the third time. "Ellen" was their code word for moments when Quinn started acting too much like her mother—caring more about appearances than what was actually happening. "I'm sorry, I'm just…what it this is a terrible mistake? What if she hates me?"

Finn hugged her. "Look, I promise she won't care about the place setting, okay? She'll care whether you're nice. So don't go to the Ellen Fabray place. Or, God forbid, the Jim Fabray place. You're Quinn Fabray-Hudson. You're warm and friendly. No shell."

"No shell." Quinn had actually gotten some therapy in college that helped her work through some of her issues regarding her parents and Drizzle. It had helped her become happier and more open, but when stressed Quinn would occasionally revert to her mother's strategies of perfect appearances-although unlike Ellen, Quinn didn't resort to constant drinking. "I can do this. I can do this."

"You'll be great. She'll love you."

* * *

I was standing with Noah and Rachel on my bio-mom's doorstep. We'd rung the doorbell. I couldn't hold still.

"Drizzle, you're bouncing," Rachel said.

"Uh-huh." I said, still bouncing on my toes.

"C'mere," Noah said, and pulled me into a hug so fast I nearly fell over. I giggled, and the door swung open.

"Puck? Drizzle!"

I looked up, and there she was: my bio-mom. She wore a yellow sundress, and her hair was perfectly curled. Her hazel eyes looked teary, but she gave me a big, nervous smile. "Hi, I'm Quinn." She tentatively opened her arms. I let go of Noah and gave her a hug. Then a buzzer went off and she let go. "Oh, my pie! Come in, of course. Rachel, hi! Come in, I just don't want this to burn," she exclaimed, running off to the kitchen.

"Who was that, and what did she do with Quinn?" Noah asked.

"Noah, stop. She's just grown and matured, and…FINN!"

She launched herself across the room at a very tall man who swooped her up and twirled her around: "RACH!"

"Seriously?" I asked my bio-dad.

"Pretty much," he replied, shrugging.

"And no one minds?"

Rachel was kind of dangling from Finn's neck, and they were giving each other big, cheesy smiles.

"Not really," Quinn said as she walked into the room and set a lattice-top pie down on a trivet. "Honey, you leaving me for Crazy Berry?"

The tall man frowned at his wife, confused. "What?" He lowered Rachel back to the floor.

"See? They're fine. They got all that out of their system a long time ago. Unlike _some_ people," Quinn said, raising her eyebrows at Noah, then flicking her eyes over to Rachel and back.

"Seriously, who are you? Where is my Q?" Noah asked. She just gave him a bitchy smirk, pivoted and walked away. "Oh, there she is."

Dinner was delicious. Quinn and Finn asked me questions about my parents and school, my hobbies and my college plans. We told them the story of how I first met Rachel and Noah. They all caught each other up about work and their families. It was kind of weird to think that my Grandma lives so close to my bio-grandparents. I even have a bio-great-grandma who Noah calls Nana.

"'Nana,' Puck? You call your grandmother Nana?"

"What do you call yours, Q? Grandmother Fabray?"

"Mom's mom is Grandma Fay. My father's mom still thinks I'm a harlot, so I don't call her anything."

"Because of me?" I squeaked.

"No," Quinn said, "Because of _her_. She's hateful. She calls herself a Christian, but she ignores 'Judge not lest ye be judged,' the Golden Rule, and that love is what's most important. So, um…do you have any questions for me?" She shifted in her seat, and suddenly her posture became stiff and formal.

"Not really. Um, what's your favorite band?"

She laughed, but the laughter turned into tears. I didn't know what to do. Finn just got up, grabbed a box of tissues, then handed it to Quinn and stood by her, one hand on her shoulder. She reached up a hand to hold his. "You don't want to know why I…why we…"

"Gave me up?" I asked. She nodded. "No. I mean, I'm seventeen. If I got pregnant now, I wouldn't raise the baby. I mean, maybe if I was in love with the dad and we wanted to get married or whatever, but you guys weren't in love, so…actually, I think it's awesome that you had me at all. You didn't have to. That must have been really hard. Was it embarrassing?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Sometimes."

"Noah told me what your dad did. I'm so sorry," I said. A tear slid down my cheek.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Drizzle. You know that, right? Nothing was your fault. Puck and I made choices. "

"No, I know. I know that. Thanks for picking my mom and dad."

"I'm glad we chose the right people," Quinn said. "You're really not mad at me?" Perfect tears slid down her perfect face.

"No. I was afraid you wouldn't want me around now, but I always knew you didn't give me up because you didn't care. You did it because you loved me, and you wanted the best for all of us."

"You did?"

"Yeah. I read the letters. I saw the video." I suddenly wanted to sing, and the thought was embarrassing, but words alone couldn't tell my birth mother what this song could. I decided, screw it, and sang, "_Who knows how long I've loved you? You know I love you still. Will I wait a lonely lifetime? If you want me to, I will. For if I ever saw you, I didn't catch your name. But it never really mattered. I will always feel the same. Love you forever and forever. Love you with all my heart. Love you whenever we're together. Love you when we're apart. And when at last I find you, your song will fill the air. Sing it loud so I can hear you. Make it easy to be near you, for the things you do endear you to me. Oh, you know, I will. I will."_

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**Comments, pretty please!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Need help with the Yiddish? There's a glossary at the end. It's fun that some of you are wandering over to my completed stories! I've got another Puckleberry story and a Caskett fic, among others. Enjoy! **

**Thanks to gleek30 and Calli Wall for multiple comments! Sunrise4ever, liasonfan96706, TearDropsOnMyBlueJeans, Kitty-is-a-dreamer, Veggie95, Bankhgirl04, shezz05 and emo nemo96, thank you for commenting on Chapter 7, choosing my story as a favorite, putting me on author alert and/or naming me a favorite author. I appreciate it. **

* * *

"You sang? You're so brave! How did she react?"

"Everyone started crying. Literally everyone."

"Even Puck?"

I ignored Megan's sexy tone of voice whenever she said my bio-dad's name.

"Everyone. I felt bad. Like, 'How do we get out of this?' But then Finn's phone rang. It was his brother wanting to set up dinner for tomorrow night. That gave us a chance to pull ourselves together. So we had some pie and everyone hugged everyone, and now Finn and Quinn are coming with us to UCLA tomorrow, then we're going to dinner with their high school friends. Sunday morning we're going to the beach, and we fly back Sunday night."

"See? I told you she'd love you. Hee! I love picturing you touring a college with four semi-parents. If only Sharon and Josh were there, because having six parents following you around would be hilarious!"

Did I have six parents now? Mom, Dad, Bio-Mom, Bio-Dad, Step BioDad, and my Broadway Fairy Godmother (BFG?)…it was kind of funny.

"Listen, Drizz, I gotta get some sleep, so…"

"Oh, Megs, I forgot the time difference. It's…3 a.m. there? I can't believe you picked up!"

"And miss out on this drama? No way. Hate you." She yawned.

"Hate you more." I hung up, turned out the lights and cuddled under the covers, then crossed my fingers that things were going well in the other room. I didn't want to think about it too much—Noah's my bio-dad, after all. I just want him and Rachel to be happy, and I can't help but think they'd be happiest as a couple.

* * *

Rachel had changed into her nightgown and washed her face. She was applying moisturizer when Puck, clad only in boxers, appeared in the mirror behind her.

"So, remember when I told you I'd prove I want us to be together?"

Her hands stopped making tiny circles on her face. "Yes," she replied, warily. She dropped her hands and turned to face him.

"Yeah, well, I've been thinking about it. I thought about singing a song or sending flowers. But then I realized you've seen me do that shit to get girls before. But what would I never do for any other woman, right?"

"Right," Rachel replied, still cautious, "although you know I love it when you sing for me."

"Oh, there'll be plenty of that. But then I figured it out—the thing I wouldn't do for any other chick. I told my Ma."

"You WHAT?"

"Yep, I called her and said, 'Guess what, Ma? You know how you've been bugging me since birth to get together with Rachel Berry? Well, it's on!' She was totally kvelling."

"You didn't!" Rachel exclaimed. She began to pace, gesturing wildly. "You did not call Suzanne Puckerman and tell her that! She'll think we're engaged. We haven't even been on a date yet! And she'll tell your Nana, who will tell my bubbe and zeyde, who will tell Dad and Daddy. And _they'll_ probably Mama Ree and Papa Joe. Oh, Noah!" With that, she fell straight back onto the bed, as though in a dead faint.

He couldn't help but laugh at the response, which was dramatic, even for Rachel. "Need your smelling salts?"

Her eyes popped open. "It's not funny, Noah. They're going to get all excited and nosey. What if this doesn't work out? For the rest of our lives, whenever they call or I visit Lima, I'll have to answer," she imitated her grandmother's Yiddish accent, "'Whatever happened with you and that nice Noah Puckerman? _Already, _you're through with him?'"

"What about me? Ma's probably chuppah-shopping already. If you kick my ass to the curb, I'm screwed. And Nana? 'My grandson and his _farcockteh_ love life! Smart, he isn't, letting a mentsh like her get away. Oi a brokh!'"

Rachel giggled. "I didn't know you spoke that much Yiddish."

He rolled his eyes. "I never use it, but sometimes I can just hear Nana in my head. Like, 'That's a _mushuggeneh_ idea, tatelleh.'"

"Me, too!" Rachel exclaimed, crawling under the covers. "And the vocabulary is only half of it. It's the word order, and the inflection, like, 'Tony awards, she wants! _Those _will keep her warm at night.'"

"Speaking of which…" Puck waggled his eyebrows and got in bed with her.

"Noah, I'm not comfortable with anything _happening._ I mean, Drizzle's here, and…"

"Me, too."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. We're not having sex for the first time with Drizzle here." He turned out the lamp on his side of the bed.

"Oh. Good," Rachel replied, sighing in relief before turning off her lamp.

Noah quickly got comfortable, but couldn't sleep. Inches away, Rachel was fidgeting. She kept wiggling her feet. She'd lain on her left side, then her right. She'd flung her arm over the blanket and back under the blanket.

"What the hell, babe? Am I making you nervous?"

"What? No. Sorry, Noah. I always have trouble getting comfortable to get to sleep."

"Shocking."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're great at a lot of things, but relaxing isn't one of them." He turned on his right side and used his thumbs to massage the base of Rachel's skull.

"Oh!" she sighed, surprised and pleased. His guitar-callused fingers deftly worked the tension from her neck and shoulders. Then his hands kneaded circles down Rachel's spine. When she was looser, Puck pulled Rachel close, pillowed one arm under his head and wrapped the other around her waist. Even though she was tiny, spooning felt perfect.

"Go to sleep, Berry," he whispered, and she did.

* * *

I woke up to pounding on the door of our suite. I stumbled into the living room and peeked out the peephole. It was a thin, stylish white man arm-in-arm with a curvaceous, stylish black woman. "Who is it?"

"Drizzle? It that you? It's your Uncle Kurt and Aunt Mercedes," he exclaimed.

I recognized the names, so I opened the door. They swept into the room.

"Nice to meet you, Drizzle," Mercedes said as she hugged me with a warm smile.

"Yes, it's wonderful," Kurt said, hugging me with a smile that edged on manic. "God, even just out of bed you look amazing. Oh, to be so young!"

"Honey, do you _remember_ high school?"

"You're right. I'll take being 33 and needing beauty products over being back in high school any day. My condolences."

"Well, I mostly say off the radar, so high school's not so bad. It used to be boring, but now I've got the bio-parent drama to keep me interested, so…"

"Speaking of which, where are Puck and Rachel? They didn't answer their cell phones, but we were in the neighborhood and wanted to have breakfast together," Mercedes said.

"Oh, be honest, 'Cedes. We couldn't wait to meet you. And I'm glad we didn't."

I blushed and nodded toward their room. "They're still in bed, so…"

"Oh, well I'll just peek my head in and see if they want to come."

Before I could stop him, Kurt was opening their door and…

"FINALLY! Finally, finally, finally! If I believed in God, I would praise him now. Mercedes, you do it."

Mercedes scrambled over to the door. I followed, not knowing what else to do.

"Hallelujah!" Mercedes exclaimed. "Puckleberry lives!"

Bio-dad was lying in bed, frowning. Rachel had her head on his bare chest, and her hair was mussed and sexy. Her bare arm peeked out from under the sheets. Their legs were all tangled. I was simultaneously thrilled and grossed-out.

"The fuck, Hummel," Noah growled.

"Mercedes?" Rachel sounded confused. "Why are you in my bedroom?"

"Not your bedroom, babe," Noah whispered. She nuzzled her face into his chest, as if trying to hide from us and go back to sleep. "You must be jet lagged, Berry. Normally you go a million miles an hour from the second you wake up." He absently stroked her hair as he said it. "Seriously, though, what the hell, guys?"

"It's my fault," I said. "I let them in. I recognized their names from last night when Kurt called Finn to schedule dinner. They want to have breakfast with us."

"It's fine, Drizz. We forgot to warn you they're insane." Then he threw back the covers. I slapped a hand over my eyes as Rachel groaned, annoyed at the loss of heat. Then Kurt and Mercedes groaned, too.

"Well, that's just disappointing," Kurt said. I peeked between my fingers and saw that Bio-Dad had boxers on, and Rachel was wearing a spaghetti-strap nightgown.

Rachel giggled. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, then popped into Mama Rose mode. "Drizzle, go get ready! We have just enough time for everyone to prepare for the day and have breakfast in the restaurant downstairs before we're scheduled to meet up with Quinn and Finn. Noah, I'll shower first, since it will take me longer to do my hair.

"Fine, but don't take too long. After all, we have to go to UCLA today. 'You may have heard of it. It's in Los Angeles,'" Noah replied, spouting the last two lines in an effete voice.

Rachel giggled. "I never should have told you that story!"

* * *

**Kvelling = bursting with pride. Bashert= meant to be. Farcockteh=messed up. Mentsh=An honorable, decent person. Oi a brokh! = What a mess!**


	9. Chapter 9

**An- Sorry for the delay! The first draft of this chapter disappeared in my computer somehow. I lost my list of who recently made this story a favorite or named me a favorite author, so you shall have to go unthanked. ): At least I can still thank recent commenters zodiac dragonHatori, gleek30, lizzybennetdarcy, twilight2892, kataragurl27, SuzQQ, liasonfan96706, TommyH and Calli Wall. It's readers like you who motivate me to rewrite a lost chapter. Enjoy, folks. It's a long one. **

* * *

"This is going to be Marie's Crisis all over again," Bio-dad complained with a groan.

"Oh, I miss Marie's Crisis," Rachel moaned. "I haven't been in so long."

"What's Marie's Crisis?" I asked.

"It's this fabulous dive bar in the village," Kurt said. "It has black walls, Christmas lights serve as the main lighting, and it's been around forever. There are different piano players on different nights, and each has his or her own Broadway specialty. Everyone sings along. Rachel and I used to go now and again before she made her break, and we took Puck once when he was visiting."

"Sorry, Berry, but you'd get killed," Noah said. "You almost got squished there in the old days, since you're tiny and that place is a fire hazard, but now? You can't take an award-winning Broadway actress into a packed Broadway piano bar."

"He's right, sweetie. And even if you don't get trampled, best case scenario, people will think you're trolling for fans to ask for your autograph," Kurt added.

"I just want to sing for fun with new people! Also, I find it soothing to sing show tunes with older gay men. It reminds me of being home with my dads. And if I can't go there, why can I come here?"

"We're in L.A., so they're a little less likely to know a Broadway star who hasn't made a movie or a TV show. Second, this place isn't a gay-Mecca tourist trap like Marie's. It's just a karaoke bar having its monthly Broadway night," Kurt said.

"Monthly? Only monthly?" Rachel asked, appalled.

"C'mon, babe, let's show them what they're missing," Noah said, taking her hand.

We went in and joined Finn, Quinn and Mercedes at the table. A large man in his 50s was singing "I Feel Pretty." Mercedes and Kurt asked about our tour of UCLA while Rachel signed autographs and smiled for picture after picture. I told them about the gorgeous campus: the brick buildings, high arches and rolling green lawns. The representative from the theater department was nice, though she seemed confused by our group. None of them really look old enough to be my parents, but they don't look young enough to be freshmen, either.

"She kept throwing in details about how UCLA is very accommodating to 'non-traditional learners.'" Noah said.

"But what did you _think?_" Quinn asked me.

"It was beautiful, and I'd love to be around to get to know you better, but my heart is set on Broadway, not Hollywood."

"Don't let Rachel talk you into anything," Quinn said.

"She can be really convincing," Finn agreed. "One time she convinced me to publically sing her a love song with me dressed as a priest and her as a nun."

I giggled. "No, I was stuck on the idea of Broadway from the first time I saw a touring production of Annie. I was so mad it was her up there and not me."

"Okay, I see your point now," Rachel admitted to the guys, rubbing her writing hand during a lull. "This place is nowhere near as packed as Marie's, and my hand is already cramping."

"Here, I'll fix it," Noah said, pulled her chair up against his, then put his arm around her. He massaged her hand. "If they think you're on a date, they'll probably leave you alone." He kissed her, right on the lips. No one even blinked.

"Was that their first kiss?" I whispered to Kurt.

"Oh, sweetie," Kurt laughed. "Mercedes, Drizzle wanted to know when Rachel and Puck first kissed."

"Hey, guys! I made it, and look who I brought!" a tall, gorgeous blonde flounced up to our long table with an iPad in her hand.

"Who did you bring, Britt?" Mercedes asked, confused.

"Oops, I've got her backwards," Brittany responded, turning the iPad around. A gorgeous Latina was on the screen.

"Hey. Brittany really wanted me to come. I explained that I'd never be able to fly there in time, so now I'm hanging with you losers via Skype."

"It's lovely to see you, Santana. How is Chicago?" Rachel asked as the blonde took a seat and turned the screen toward my BFG.

"Hey, midget! I almost didn't see you down there. It's too cold, the accent is weird, and everyone is too fat. I think I have to move."

"My little sister lives in Chicago and she loves it," Bio-dad replied.

"Really? Well I might have to look her up," Santana purred.

"No way, Lopez. Sarah is off limits."

"What about the hot blonde sitting next to you? She off limits, too?

"This is Drizzle," he growled.

"Really? Hey, kid. You turned out pretty cute. Last time I saw you, you were all wrinkly and gross."

"Thank you?" I replied.

"So what'd I miss?" Santana asked.

"Puck just kissed Rachel, and Drizzle thought it had never happened before." Everyone at the table laughed, and I began to get mad. It's not easy to set off my temper, but when you do? Look out.

"Why is that such a dumb thing to think? When I met them, they swore they were just friends, not a couple," I grumbled.

"That's my fault kid," Bio-Dad said. "We didn't tell you that we used to be a couple, because it was just for a week during our sophomore year. Well, my _first_ sophomore year. I had to retake it, but that's a different story."

"And we had that kiss that led to a breakup between me and Finn," Rachel said

"Yeah, and a couple of weeks your senior year, and a few other make-out sessions since then."

"Bullshit," Santana exclaimed.

"What do you mean, San?" Brittany asked.

"I can buy that these two are such complete morons that they've never knocked boots, but we're supposed to believe that Puck didn't even sample the Berry until sophomore year? No way. There are like 30 Jewish families in Lima and only one synagogue. Berry and Puckerman were totally the cream of the Lima Jew crop. Are we actually supposed to believe in all those years they didn't hook up at a single mitzah, bar or bat? Britt, the resolution is too low. Are they busted? Either one blushing? Avoiding eye-contact?" Noah says Santana is a lawyer. I can totally see it. Her skills of deduction are awesome.

We all stared at them. Rachel flushed to the roots on her hair and squirmed until the emcee announced,

"Next up, Puck and Rachel singing 'People Will Think We're in Love,'" the emcee announced.

Rachel groaned. "You did this, didn't you Kurt? I love the song, but I sing it eight times a week and I'm on vacation. Quinn, Finn, would you take it?"

"Sure!" Finn gamely agreed. "Quinn loves that movie."

"Yeah, but I don't particularly want to sing from it in front of the woman who plays Laurie on Broadway!"

"Please?" Rachel begged. "Each actress has her own interpretation, and I'm sure yours will be charming!"

"Fine," she grumpily agreed, but by the time she reached the small stage, she had her show face on. "Correction, I'm Quinn and he's Finn. Yes, we know: our names rhyme. Hilarious."

The audience giggled at her deadpan delivery. Then the music began, and they were in their own little world. I could see why Rachel and Quinn both fell for Finn in high school. When he sings, he's very charismatic. Quinn's voice isn't as powerful as Rachel's or mine, but it's pretty. Both of their voices had a pop/rock quality. It gave the song a freshness.

"Huh," I said. "It's different, but I like it."

"Me, too," Rachel agreed.

The whole bar was applauded after Quinn and Finn hit their triumphant final note. It was so good I got chills.

"Weren't the breeders darling?" the emcee cooed, smacking Finn's ass as they left the stage.

A middle-aged woman took to the stage and began singing "Memory" from Cats. Santana and all the guys groaned. Rachel shushed them and called them disrespectful. She was perusing the book that listed songs in the pianist's repertoire. "Look, it's the Soliloquy from Carousel, Noah. Oh, please? For me? They haven't heard what you can do since you got all your training!"

"No way, Rach. That song's like 8 minutes long. I'm still annoyed Professor Shankman made me sing it for my senior showcase. Besides, the lyrics are awkward, considering."

"Oh, no, you're right. I hadn't thought of that." She looked disappointed, and he sighed.

"How about the duet instead?"

"Really, Noah?" She clapped her hands and giggled.

"Really, Noah?" Santana teased from the screen. He flipped her off, but she just smirked. Brittany tried to talk Santana into singing with her, but Santana thought a Skype duet was "pushing it."

It was one of the best nights of my life. My bio-parents and their friends all had amazing voices. I held the iPad so Santana could see while Brittany sang "So Much Better" from "Legally Blonde-The Musical," and she captured both Elle's fun, flirty side and her emotional breakthrough. Kurt did a hot cover of "My Strongest Suit" from Aida that led to guys hitting on him the rest of the night.

Mercedes did a rendition of "All that Jazz" that had everybody whooping and hollering. Brittany couldn't stay in her seat and dragged Quinn, Rachel and me onto the floor with her to do some improvised Fosse-style Jazz. We couldn't hold a candle to her, though, since she's a professional dancer and choreographer. Some guys who obviously dance for a living joined us. Usually I think of dancing as "that thing directors make you do while you sing" or "that thing I do in competition to make Megs happy," but on the floor, the music washed over us. I had to really feel it and be attuned to the other dancers to pick up what Britt wanted us to do. I felt so powerful and alive!

When it was my turn to sing, I kept the dancing going, singing "How 'Bout a Dance" from Bonnie and Clyde-The Musical. The crowd slow-danced as I sang, which was so cool. Everyone in our group kept switching couples. Kurt and Finn even danced at one point! They all stopped to applaud for the climax of the song: "How 'bout a dance? Let's make a start! Music like this can really throw ya. You'll lose the blues, and you may lose your heart."

"Isn't she a little charmer! Next up, Noah and Rachel singing, 'If I Loved You.'"

When they hit the stage, Noah smirked at Rachel, but she slipped right into character. With just a subtle change of posture, toes turned in a tad, doing occasional ankle-dips, years melted off of her. She looked like an innocent girl. "If I loved you, time and again I would try to say all I'd want you to know. If I loved you, words wouldn't come in an easy way. Round in circles I'd go! Longing to tell you, but afraid and shy, I'd let my golden chances pass me by!" A tear rolled down her cheek as she finished the verse.

"Is she acting?" Finn asked.

"I can't tell," Kurt replied.

Now my bio-dad was singing, and it was different from his voice I'd seen on the video. He said they made him sing opera in college, and it was evident as sang.

"Where the hell did _that_ voice come from?" Mercedes asked. "Damn!"

He looked right in her eyes as he sang, one second the picture of young love, the next a dark look swept over his face as he finished his verse: "Soon you'd leave me, off you would go in the mist of day, never, never to know how I loved you."

Rachel joined him in perfect harmony for just the last line: "If I loved you." Another tear rolled down Rachel's face, and Noah reached up and brushed it away with his thumb. Then they left the stage together, arms around each others' waists. The song was beautiful, but their harmony was too brief. It made you wish they'd sung together on the whole song. Maybe the composer did it that way on purpose. I could hardly think about it over the clapping and whistling all around me.

A few songs later, it was Quinn's turn to sing.

"This is for Drizzle—my daughter." Suddenly, there was a hot lump in my throat. She started to sing a song I couldn't place at first.

"No one here to guide you. Now you're on your own. Only me beside you. Still you're not alone. No one is alone, truly. No one is alone. Sometimes people leave you halfway through the wood. Others may deceive you. You decide what's good. You decide alone, but no one is alone."

I recognized the song, now. It was from Into The Woods. Cinderella and the Baker sang it to Jack and Red Riding Hood after they lost their parents.

"People make mistakes—fathers, mothers—people make mistakes holding to their own. Thinking they're alone. Honor their mistakes. Everybody makes one another's terrible mistakes. Witches can be right. Giants can be good. You decide what's right. You decide what's good." She sang it simply, clearly, but her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and her chin trembled.

"Just remember: Someone is on your side. Someone else is not. While we're seeing our side, maybe we forgot: they are not alone, 'cause no one is alone. Hard to see the light now. Just don't let it go. Things will come out right now. We can make it so. Someone is on your side! No one is alone."

When she left the stage, I had to hug her. I cried wrapped in her arms for the first time since the day I was born.

We stayed that way for a long time while two twenty-something black guys sang "I'll Cover You." Eventually, we settled back into our seats. While we listened to the beautiful men sing, Quinn held my hand. Before we knew it, it was nearly closing time.

"Broadway star Rachel Berry briefly graced our stage once tonight," the emcee stated, and everyone cheered. "The management here at Opal would like to extend a special invitation: Ms. Berry, would you do us the honor of singing the closing number?"

The whole bar erupted into wilder applause. Rachel looked around the table: "Any requests?"

"Kill it, Berry!" Santana exclaimed. "No torch song bullshit. I want a show stopper!"

"Oh, I know!" Kurt exclaimed. He pointed out a song in the book, and a huge smile broke across Rachel's face.

"I've always wanted to play that role!"

She practically skipped on stage, whispered to the piano player, then perched on the stool. The song was old-fashioned, and she began softly introspective: "A simple choice, nothing more. This or that, either or. Marry well, social whirl, business man, clever girl. Or pin my future on the boy I love. What kind of life am I dreaming of? I say…" a wistful look swept over her as the song gained urgency, "I say gimme, gimme ... Gimme, gimme… Gimme, gimme that thing called love. I want it! Gimme, gimme that thing called love. I need it! Highs and lows, tears and laughter. Gimme happy ever after. Gimme, gimme that thing called love."

She rose to her feet and her face turned hungry as she sang the next verse about braving anything for love. Line by line, verse by verse, she displayed her character's range of emotion: excitement mixed with fear that she wouldn't find love. We were all riveted as she belted:

"Gimme, gimme that thing called love. I'm free now! Gimme, gimme that thing called love. I see now: Fly, dove! Sing, sparrow! Gimme Cupid's famous arrow! Gimme, gimme that thing called love. I don't care if he's a nobody. In my heart he'll be a somebody—somebody to love me!" Pure hope shone from her eyes, and she gestured grabbing something out of the air.

"I need it! Gimme, gimme that thing called love. I want it. Here I am, St. Valentine. My bags are packed, I'm first in line. Aphrodite, don't forget me, Romeo and Juliet me. Fly, dove! Sing, sparrow! Gimme fat boy's famous arrow," she growled, and the audience laughed. "Gimme, gimme that thing called love!" She threw open her arms and poured her heart out in that last line. I swear she held the last note for eight measures. It was unreal. Everyone was on their feet, cheering and applauding. I sneaked a peek at Noah, and he was grinning at her, proud as all-get-out (as my grandma says). Rachel beamed and took a bow, then Noah went and lifted her off the little stage.

"God, you're demanding," he teased. She giggled, and he dipped her in a kiss better than any I've ever seen on a stage.

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**Just to clarify, "If I Loved You" is the title of the duet from Carousel; "No One Is Alone" is from Into the Woods, but I used the Lyrics from Bernadette Peters' solo arrangement; and "Gimme, Gimme" is from Thoroughly Modern Millie. If you don't know the song, watch Sutton Foster's version on YouTube. It's amazing.  
**

**Did I match the songs and singers well? ****If you've made it this far, thanks for sticking with me, and please leave a comment.**  



	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for the reviews, oliigleegirl1124, Kkaty and the ever-faithful gleek30! Kkaty, I agree: some of the Gleeks didn't get to do much in Chapter 9. Poor Britt ended up a mere Santana delivery system! I'll work on it next chapter. Thanks for making me or my story a favorite, Pucksprincess22, Crazy4MadHatter, oliigleegirl1124, MaceyGill, xXKimmyXx, SongsRemain, rae3m2009 and SabrinaEF!**

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"We are not going to have sex," Puck said into Rachel's neck as he kissed down the length of it. They'd gotten in the hotel room door, Drizzle had said a quick good night, and Puck and Rachel had entered their room and locked the door. The next second, Noah had her pressed up against door with her legs around his waist.

"Exactly," Rachel gasped. "Because…Drizzle, and…noise!"

Noah chuckled, chuffed that just a few kisses had rendered the verbose Rachel Berry incapable of forming a complete sentence. He slid his hands up into her hair, until the press of his body and the strength of her thighs was all that held her up. He looked into her chocolate brown eyes and kissed her deep and hard. He was nibbling on her lower lip when his phone vibrated in his pants.

"Oh!" Rachel exclaimed, startled.

He lowered Rachel to the ground so he could dig the damn think out of his pocket and was about to toss it when he saw it was his mother calling. His mother never called this late, and it would be later in Lima. He accepted the call.

"What's the matter, Ma?"

"The matter? What could possibly be the matter? Everything is wonderful, Noah. And you know who I was wrong about? That Santana Lopez. She's turned out to be such a nice girl! She called me to get your sister's number, and she sent me the most beautiful video of you and Rachel singing together—said your friend Kurt recorded it with his cell phone. You and Rachel are bashert. How long have I been telling you that?"

He looked at the pint-sized diva with her mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips. "I dunno, Ma. A decade?"

"Closer to two! Fast, you aren't. Well, you used to be too fast, but we're talking about the heart, not your shlang."

"Jeeze, Ma! Wait, you didn't give Santana Sarah's number, did you?"

Rachel giggled at that.

"Of course I did. Sarah could use a friend from home!"

Puck was growing agitated and began to pace. Rachel took the phone from his hand.

"Mrs Puckerman?"

"Rachel? Is that you, dear?"

"Yes, ma'am. We all need to go to bed so that we can make our appointment in the morning and then catch our flight tomorrow. And it must be so late in Lima! I hope you're not ill?"

"No, I was just excited and had to call my Noah."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Puckerman."

"Goodnight, Rachel. Kiss Noah goodnight for me."

Rachel grinned wickedly. "Oh, I will." Then she hung up the phone. "I'm supposed to kiss you goodnight for her," she said, puckering.

"Don't be weird about it, Berry," he said, dodging her attempt to kiss him. Instead, he grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her. "You know she thinks we're bashert?"

"Bashert? I don't remember that one. In love?"

"Close: it means made for each other. If you use it as a noun, it means soulmate. So you and another person can be bashert, or someone can be your bashert." His fingers toyed with soft strands of her shiny black hair. "You lied to my mother! I'm impressed."

"I did no such thing," Rachel exclaimed, appalled.

"Our appointment?"

"We're scheduled to meet everyone at the beach at 10 a.m. It would be rude to arrive late."

"Uh-huh."

She gave him a peck on the cheek. "That's for your mother."

"And what's for you?" he asked, giving her a seductive smirk.

Rachel got an introspective look on her face. "Noah, why didn't anyone know we used to make out in junior high? With all the things we all went through in high school, why was _that_ a secret?"

He frowned at the change of subject. "I dunno, Rachel. It was weird enough when I went from slushying you to making out with you. To go from making out with you to slushying you and back seems worse."

She stepped out of his arms. "But why did that even happen?"

"Mood officially killed. Ma put it on life support, but…" He slumped onto the edge of the bed. Rachel sat beside him.

"I'm serious, Noah! You were my friend, and then one day it was like we'd never met."

"I was a moron, Rachel! Back then I chewed tobacco. I beat up geeks and slept with every cougar in Lima. I didn't even start using condoms until Coach Bieste showed us a gross STD Power Point my junior year. I was a fuckup, and you were princess perfect, with your dads worshiping you."

Rachel began to make a sound of protest, but he continued, "I know you had plenty of insecurities. I found that out later. When I got slushied, that's when I knew that you were just faking it, when you pretended it didn't bother you. But, whatever, you were out of my league and I wanted to bring you down a notch. I was a dick."

"What did my dads have to do with it? Noah, were you a…" she whispered, "homophobe?"

"What? No!" He loved that she said "homophobe" like it was a dirty word. "I mean, I admit I talked some shit to fit in freshman year and my first sophomore year, but that changed when I joined glee and got to know Kurt. Your dads don't have anything to do with it. Do we _have_ to do the therapy thing? This sucks."

"But _you're_ the one who said I was 'princess perfect with my dads…'"

"Look, I just had my mom, and she was always on my ass, all, 'Why can't you get good grades like Jacob Ben Israel? Why won't you sing at temple like that sweet Rachel Berry?' Blah, blah, blah. I knew I could never be like you guys."

"Thank goodness. One Rachel Berry is enough for Lima, I should think. And one Jacob Ben-Israel is more that enough."

"And I was just the white trash son of a deadbeat."

"Oh, Noah!"

"Don't, okay? I fuckin' hate pity. I told you I didn't want to do this."

"I know, but we need to get this out in the open. You know we do, if we're really going to be more than friends. For my part, I'm sorry for all the times I used you in high school to make Finn jealous, or as a consolation prize when things were going wrong. Being with you felt so comforting. Also, you were such a catch."

"A 'catch,' Berry?" he teased. "How dare you objectify me that way!"

"I know. I was just so goal-oriented. I never could see the forest for the trees."

"How 'bout now?"

"You tell me."

"Are you worried about what our relationship would do to your career?"

"No. Well, not unless I got pregnant too soon. You do use condoms now, right?"

"Yep, and I've been tested. I'm clean."

"It's a miracle," she said with a giggle. "Just so you know, I tested clean, too."

"Shocker! This conversation is so hot," he deadpanned.

"Hey, I find a lack of STIs very attractive in a partner. In fact, can I get your test results in writing?"

"You don't trust me, Berry?"

"What happened to Quinn when you said, 'Trust me'?"

"Ouch! Right through the heart!" Puck replied, and mimed pulling a dagger out of his chest.

"I'm just teasing. I know that was a long time ago, and you've changed since then."

"Oh, yeah? How do you know?"

"Because you wanted to get to know Drizzle and now you're really a part of her life. Because you've been a great friend to me for so long. And fifteen years ago, you never would have had this conversation with me. You would have walked away like it didn't matter to you or tried to distract me with a kiss."

"You know, teenage-asshole-me had the right idea about a few things," he replied, and pulled Rachel onto his lap for a kiss.

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**AN- I'm tickled by all the favorites, but I'd love more reviews. Pretty please? Thanks!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks, Calli Wall, TommyH, SuzQQ, and liasonfan96706. You are loyal reviewers! Thanks, too, to thatsaturday, LivinLaughinLoving4ever, Catlimere and 10Bluebird11 for the favorites! **

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"Okay, so you paddle like a dog? Only dogs don't usually use surfboards, and when they do, their owners usually paddle. Anyway, you'll paddle on your belly, and when you feel a wave catch your board you pop up!" Brittany hopped into a crouching position. "You try!"

I followed the steps Britt had suggested. It was harder than she made it look. Finn was already out surfing. Quinn was sunning herself. I'd say she was tanning, but he constantly smeared on SPF 60 sunblock. She and Rachel had that in common, actually. Rachel also wore an elegant yet hilariously-large-brimmed red hat, which matched her red bikini. Quinn's bikini was turquoise, Brittany's was metallic silver and mine was black with red zebra stripes.

When Noah saw me in my bikini, I thought he was going to swallow his tongue. He turned red, and I could practically see steam coming out of his ears. Before he could get started, I pointed out that my suit covered more than Rachel's, which managed to distract him. I'd already had that argument with my dad and was not in the mood to have it again with my bio-dad. Also, he was getting plenty of looks on the beach, showing off his six-pack without his shirt. Did I freak out about it? No, I did not. It is awkward to see random people hitting on your relatives, but the mature thing to do is deal with it, not throw a hissy fit and try to confine the other person to a burqa.

And seriously, who knows the consequences of teen sex better than me? Okay, not counting teenagers who've actually gotten knocked up or caught an STI or something. Whatever, what I'm saying is, I'm not a big fan of risky behaviors, so my dads have nothing to worry about, no matter how small the swimsuit gets. I'm glad it's not _that _small, though. Brittany says a good wave can destroy a string bikini. "Although if you do lose your bikini? Guys are usually really nice to you and will help you. She basically has the most amazing body I've ever seen, so…yeah, I bet when she lost her suit the guys were _really_ nice to her.

I tried popping up for the third time and got it. Brittany clapped excitedly and hugged me. "We have to try in the water now! Guys, are you sure you don't want to try?"

"I can't Brittany. If I'm injured I won't be able to perform," Rachel said, "But thank you for asking."

"I'm going to try and get that guy to teach me," Kurt said, pointing at a guy a little way down the beach. Kurt was wearing mid-thigh-length trunks and bamboo sunglasses. He managed to look cool, though, like somebody out of a movie from the '60s. The guy felt Kurt's gaze and smiled. "You catch a wave. I'll work on catching him."

"What's the point, Kurt? You're not into random hookups, and you live in New York!" Rachel exclaimed.

"Sweetie, not everything is about some larger goal. It would be fun to have a hot guy teach me to surf, so I'm going to go do it!" He got up and jogged toward the surfer without a backwards glance.

"But you already know how to surf!" Then it was like a light bulb went off over Rachel's head and she laughed. "Let's swim, Noah!" He grinned and threw Rachel over his shoulder in a fireman carry. "Put me down, Puckerman!" He didn't do as she asked until they were in the ocean. He tossed her into deeper water. I laughed, picked up her hat where it had fallen and tossed it onto her towel.

"I don't want to leave you alone, Quinn. Is Mercedes coming?"

"No. She had to go to church. Finn and I skipped our church today, but it's harder for Mercedes to skip hers since her husband's the minister. She also had a solo today."

"Oh. Maybe we should have gone."

"We couldn't let you go back East without seeing the Pacific Ocean. Go surf with Britt. I'll be fine. Finn will want to take a breather soon, anyway."

"Hey, smile, you two!" Brittany exclaimed, then snapped a picture of Quinn and me sitting side-by side on her towel. "Oh, freaky! You look like twins!" She turned her phone to show us the display. We each wore bikinis, similar black sunglasses and a blonde ponytail. Quinn's body was a little curvier, but we had the same hands, same feet—the same proportions.

"Wow. That's…"

"Freaky?" Quinn asked.

"I was going to say 'Cool.' Growing up, I didn't look like my parents. They're both shorter with dark hair and eyes. Mom has these awesome curves. When you're little, your mom is the most beautiful woman in the world, you know? It's hard when you don't look like her. When people would meet us, they'd ask where I got my eyes or my blonde hair. 'Who does she take after?' Once I knew the truth, Mom and Dad would explain to people that I was adopted, and they would look at me with pity. It was just weird. So it's cool to hear someone say I look just like my mom."

Quinn gave me a hug and swiped away a tear from under her shades. "Go surf. Have fun. I'll take pictures."

Brittany grabbed her pink surfboard, which had a fluffy while cat painted on it. I took her spare, which was white with purple hibiscus. We paddled out into the water in a spot away from the more experienced surfers. We sat on our boards and just waited.

"Do you like being a dancer?"

"I love it. I like being a choreographer, too, but not as much. Well, the best is when I get to choreograph a dance _and_ dance it. But I kind of have to become a choreographer."

"Have to?"

"You can't dance forever. It's really hard on your body. Not just the staying-thin-part. You end up with achy joints. You start to get hurt too often. San says there's an expiration date, and after that I either have to become a choreographer or a dance teacher or give up dance altogether. So, chug the milk while it's still good, you know?"

"I never realized. I'm sorry."

"Don't be! I've danced on commercials, TV shows, movies, music videos and awards shows. I'm part of a great dance company, and they're letting me choreograph more and more pieces. It's what I always dreamed of. That or being President. Ooh, wave! Paddle!"

I paddled, but I felt like my heart was being squished between blocks of ice. "I can't do this. I can't do this!" I hadn't told any of them that I hate deep water. When my feet don't touch, sometimes it's like I can't breathe even though I know I'm safe: I can swim and I can float. I just panic.

"Just be a dolphin!" Brittany exclaimed. "You can do it!"

"Be a dolphin," I chanted, feeling like a moron. "Be a dolphin. Chug the milk. Be a dolphin." I pictured dolphins in the movies, skimming through the waves, darting back and forth in front of boats. They always look like they're smiling. I took a deep breath, felt the wave lift my board and popped up onto my feet. The wave surged, and I tried to be relax, letting the water play under my body. A little way from the shore, I fell and the board whooshed over my head, but I didn't hit the bottom or anything, so I just broke the surface and swam toward shore, grabbing my board when I caught up to it.

My bio-parents and their friends were all cheering for me. I did it! I had stopped fighting the water, and it carried me to shore.

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**Reviews, please? They motivate me to quickly post new chapters (hint, hint)!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks to IsisLes5 for the favorite, and SuzQQ and PuckleberryShipper326 for your reviews. Drizzle dating a junior St. James? The math doesn't work out, but what a tantalizing thought!**

It was harder to come home than I thought it would be. It didn't seem fair that I'd just met Quinn, and now I had to leave her. I know I'm incredibly lucky. Not enough kids have two parents that care about them, and I have four. Six if, like Megan, you count my step-/destined-to-be-step bio-parents. The one problem in this is balancing everyone's feelings. I love Noah and Quinn. I didn't know it could happen so fast, its like calling them their names isn't enough, but calling them "Mom" and "Dad" would feel weird. I don't want my mom and dad to feel hurt by any of this. It also doesn't seem fair that, just because of geography, I'm going to end up spending so much more time with Noah and Rachel than Finn and Quinn. We already have a video-chat date set up, but it's not the same.

We parted ways from everyone at the beach with just enough time to hit the hotel, shower, drive to the airport, turn in our rental car and make our flight. Kurt was hanging back; he'd booked a redeye flight so he'd have time to actually hang out with his brother.

Rachel was hanging from Finn's neck again. I think I even saw her give him an Eskimo kiss. Noah and Quinn were hugging and talking kind of intensely, but I didn't hear what they said. Meanwhile, I hugged Brittany and thanked her for teaching me about being a dolphin and drinking the milk. "Thanks for being a dolphin with me!" she exclaimed. "Chug it!"

When Quinn pulled Rachel into a hug, my bfg looked surprised. "Thanks for being a pain in the ass and making this happen," Bio-Mom said.

"Anytime," she replied, with shiny eyes.

As I hugged Finn, he whispered, "Thank you for coming. You don't know how much it means."

Then it was time to say goodbye to Quinn. "Dreama…" was all she could say.

"I love you," I whispered so no one else could hear.

"Me to. Always have," she whispered back and held me so tight.

It was hard to let her go and get in the car. I waved as we drove away until I couldn't see her anymore.

When we arrived at JFK and headed toward the baggage claim, Mom, Dad and Megan were waiting for us. Megan was holding up a sign like chauffeurs do. It simply said, "Drizzle!" I knew she'd left off my last name just to confuse people and make them wonder whether it was a weather report or something. Her long, red curls looked sexy, as did her short skirt, leather biker jacket, low-cut tank top and high heels. According to the flight attendant, it was less 45 degrees out, so she must have been freezing, although she did have her hormones to keep her warm. Megs was clearly on the hunt.

"Oh, God," I whispered. "Noah, I'm so sorry. Megan might come on a little strong, but she probably won't actually try anything."

"Try anything? Berry, stay between me and the minor at all times!"

"Why? Surely you aren't afraid you'd…"

"I'm not afraid of what I'll do. I'm afraid of what she'll do. Remember that crush you had on Shue? You showed up at his house with his _wife _there, and that woman was psychotic. I don't have a psycho wife to protect me."

"So I'll have to do?"

"I didn't mean it like that. But, yes. Commence Operation Evade the Jailbait!"

"DRIZZLE!" Megan exclaimed, dropping her sign running to grab me. I dropped my carry-on and we did the girly squealing and jumping-up-and-down thing while Noah and Rachel shook hands with my parents.

"Megan, this is Rachel Berry."

"It's an honor," she said, shaking Rachel's hand. "I have all your cast albums."

"Thank you for supporting my career," Rachel said. "It's wonderful to meet you."

"And this is my bio-dad, Noah Puckerman."

"It's a pleasure, Puck," she purred and went to hug him. Noah reached out and put his right palm against her forehead, holding her at arms-length, and used his fingers to pat her head like she was a kindergartener or an Irish Setter. It was all I could do not to laugh, but Megs looked so pissed that I knew I couldn't. Rachel bit her lip to keep from laughing, too. My parents were just puzzled, since they didn't' know the "DILF" situation.

We headed for the giant conveyor belt and waited for our bags while chatting about our trip. I gave them the overview: how great Quinn was, how much I liked her husband and their high school friends, UCLA, karaoke and learning to surf. When we finally had our luggage, it was time for Noah and Rachel to go back to their apartments (or his? or hers?) and for us to go back to Connecticut.

I hugged my BFG first, thanking her for everything. Then I hugged my bio-dad, my arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around me and straightened up so my feet dangled off the ground.

"I love you, Da…No...ah" I awkwardly whispered in his ear.

"Danno?" He asked with a laugh, then whispered back, "Love you, too, Drizz." He smooched my cheek with a loud, "Mwah!" and set my feet back on the ground.

Danno? I liked it. Half-Dad, Half-Noah. That would make Quinn…Quom? Minn? I liked "Minn" and hoped my bio-mom would like it, too.

We went our separate ways. I could barely think the whole ride home, because Megan and my parents kept up a steady stream of questions. Megan responded to each new fact with wild enthusiasm. When we dropped her off, I literally heard my parents sigh with relief.

"Thanks for bringing her, Mom and Dad. I know she's…"

"A lot." Mom said, laughing. "Hey, why did Noah grab her head?"

"Oh," I said, blushing. "Megan saw a picture of him and developed a…um…crush, I guess? I warned him about it, so that was part of 'Operation Evade the Jailbait.'"

"Good man," Dad said with a nod.

"Should I talk to her mother?"

"Oh, God, no. Mom, you can't! That would be humiliating. She would HATE me. And she hasn't actually done anything wrong. Noah showed her he wasn't interested. I'm sure Megan will give up."

"Megan doesn't give up on much," Mom replied skeptically.

"Well, Megan's never had a face-off with Rachel Berry, either."


	13. Chapter 13

**Tracysgate, IcePrincess885, PuckleberryShipper326, SuzQQ, IsisLes5 and TommyH, thank you for your reviews, from the short and sweet to the long and lovely. Paradiso31, dede3215, DREAMSandLOVE, thanks for making "Following My Name" a favorite story. **

**Let's get steamy!**

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"So what now?" Puck asked.

"What do you mean?" Rachel replied. She'd instinctively nestled her body against his when they settled into the backseat of the cab. Puck's right arm was around Rachel, and she snuggled her head onto his chest. His left hand was tracing wandering little circles on her left thigh.

"So you just go to your place and I go to mine or should we..."

"This is weird," Rachel interrupted.

"Why?"

"I want to go home with you, but I never go home with a man unless I'm in a serious relationship with him. We haven't even been on a date yet. On the other hand, you've told your mom about us. We know each other's families. Even when we do go on a first date, you already know my best anecdotes and I know yours. Doesn't that bother you?"

"To be honest, I don't really tell stories on dates."

"I can't decide whether normal dating is essential for us to develop a healthy relationship or whether it's idiotic at this point, and we should just skip to the end." She was pretty sure Puck's deft fingers caressing her thigh were not helping her make a clear-headed decision.

"Skip to the end. God, Berry, please, let's skip to the end!"

"Yeah, but imagine if we didn't." She pulled back a little and shot Noah a bright smile. "We'd go to a restaurant. We'd sit across from each other and flirt over our food. You would look so handsome by candlelight in that green shirt I love. I would wear the black lace dress and..."

"The red shoes? Hell, yes. But fuck that, Rachel. That's just wrapping paper. Don't get me wrong: it's sexy fucking wrapping paper, but let's get to the present already! I've been sleeping next to you for two nights, and I was a total freaking gentlemen."

"You really were."

"Look, romance we can do, and we will, trust me. But what you're describing is a night-long tease to build sexual tension. We've been flirting off and on for twenty years. Consider the tension built, okay? Although… if you need me to turn up the heat, I can do that," Puck said, playing with a loose curl of her hair.

"Y-you can?" she asked. Even in the dim cab, he could see her eyes widen.

"Oh, yeah. Lots of ways," he said, his hazel eyes locked on hers. She wasn't sure he'd ever looked at her this intensely. It made her squirm in her seat a little. "The only question is: which one should I use? I could sing. You'd like that, but it would almost be too easy. I could touch more of your hot little body, but in front of a cabbie? You wouldn't want that." He whispered the words in her ear as he glided his hands over the surface of her coat, so lightly he knew she wouldn't be able to feel it through the layers of fabric. Rachel let out a little groan of disappointment. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, "But maybe I should do it anyway. That's one thing I don't know about you, yet. Do you get off on the idea that you might get caught? That I might slip my hand up under your skirt, pull off your panties, and... What kind are they?"

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me, Berry. Answer or I'll talk louder," he whispered firmly.

"Black lace!" She whispered frantically, and he chuckled.

"Right. I could pull off your black lace panties, then slide my hand between your thighs, and..."

"Right or Left?" The cabbie asked.

Noah and Rachel were both startled and breathing fast. Rachel cleared her throat, but didn't break eye-contact with Puck. "Right side of the street. We're the second-to-the-last building."

"I thought you said two stops."

"One stop. We changed our minds. Here," she said as they pulled to the curb, and peeled off the fare plus a generous tip. As he got out, Puck winked at the cabbie and slipped him a tip, too. The couple grabbed their bags from the trunk and rushed into Rachel's building. Rachel called out a quick "Hello!" as they rushed past the doorman to the elevator. When the elevator doors closed behind them, Rachel pushed Puck up against the wall and kissed him hard. The cranky old elevator crept upwards to her sixth floor apartment. Suddenly, Rachel noticed a breeze. Noah had worked her skirt up to her hips, slipped his hands underneath and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her low-rise bikini underwear. He broke their string of kisses to bend down and slide the black lace down her legs.

"NOAH!" Rachel protested.

"I let you keep them in the car to protect your fucking modesty," He replied from where he knelt at her feet, grinning wickedly, "So now you're giving them to me as a reward. Step!"

She stepped out of them with an eye-roll and gave a little wave at the roof of the elevator. Her face was flushed, and she wished she could shed the hot layers she wore.

"Why are you waving?"

"In case there's a camera in this thing and the security guys are watching," she explained, pushing his back against the wall for another kiss.

Between kisses, Puck mused, "So what if they get a show? You worry too much." He kissed his way down her jaw to her slender neck.

"Ever hear of TMZ?" she asked, her voice huskier than normal. Her breathing was heavy and a bit ragged. "Perez Hilton? Hell, the internet in general?"

"Heh. Didn't think of that," he admitted, with one hand hitching up Rachel's right leg to pull her flush against him, and the other under her blouse, caressing the soft skin of her waist. "Your coat probably blocks anything good. I guess it's lucky that I didn't rip your shirt open and pull the skirt clear up to your waist. That's what I wanted to do."

"Your restraint is admirable," she replied. Then curiosity got the best of her. "What _else_ did you want to do?"

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**People, I need help! Part of me thinks, since I started the story non-M, I should keep it non-M...but Puckleberry kind of screams for smut. Should I: 1- skip to the morning after, 2- do the love scene, but keep it implicit, not explicit, 3- change the rating and lemon it up, or 4- write an explicit sex scene as a separate one-shot story that people can seek out if they feel the need? Speak now or forever hold your peace!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Okay, folks, here's the compromise: I wrote up a love scene that keeps it pretty classy and I've posted a one-shot, "Arise," where things get graphic for the Puckleberry fans with a longing for lemons. Writing "Arise" also inspired my to alter the ending of this chapter a little.  
**

**Thanks for the reviews, storywriter84, tracysgate, kitty-is-a-dreamer, 08, shezz05, twilight2892, Noelle86, Love2-Travel, SuzQQ, Chrishalliwellsgirl, oliigleegirl1124, and liasonfan96706! I should have known offering smut was the secret to your hearts. Thanks for the favorites, nzchick, 08, Lov2-Travel, arrubio16, beckg77 and Chrishalliwellsgirl! **

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Puck stood behind Rachel, holding her tight against him, kissing behind her ear. Her mind was racing with images of all the delicious acts that Puck had proposed in the elevator. Rachel's hands were trembling so violently that she couldn't get her key in the lock.

"Can't even think straight, can you?" He sucked on her earlobe.

"Noah, you have to stop," she pleaded, resting her left hand and forehead on the door and breathing heavily. "Just for a second."

He laughed smugly, and she groaned. Puck had always been cocky when it came to sex. Now that she'd given him her panties, he was probably going to be insufferable. She opened the door and they carried their bags inside, then closed and locked the door. Puck took off his coat and tossed it on Rachel's coat-rack. She returned her keys to her purse and placed it on the hall table.

"Look, Noah, if your reputation is at all founded—and from our make-out sessions, I suspect it is—we would probably have amazing sex…"

"Probably would? _Will, _Berry. The word is 'will.' No maybes! What happened?" His brow furrowed in confusion.

"I'm not going to do it if you're going to be a jerk about it! I don't want asshole Noah; I want my best friend." She slid her tiny hands up his torso. "My hot, sexy best friend."

He laughed. "Sorry, Berry. It's been a long time since I had sex when I cared whether the girl stuck around long-term."

Rachel wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him so hard he made a little "oof!" sound and chuckled. Puck took her face in his palms, then slid his hands up into her silky, raven hair. He eased her head back and kissed her without urgency. It was sweet and tentative, like a first kiss. Rachel smiled and shed her coat. Their kisses stretched on and on.

Ever since they were in middle school (Finn era aside), kisses between Rachel and Noah had been special. He could teach Rachel a new technique without saying a word, and he knew some wonderful things. Puck loved that Rachel was so eager and a quick learner. Rachel loved that Noah paid such close attention to her. If she responded something— whether with a sigh, a moan, or adopting the technique herself—he filed that knowledge for future use. If she shifted styles, he shifted, too—seamlessly, almost instantly. It was effortless, and they could kiss and kiss and kiss without it ever getting old.

Even now, when 32-year-old Rachel assumed she knew all there was to know about kissing, he still managed to surprise her. Most men kissed like it was a duel of tongues. Noah somehow pressed his to hers, rough against rough, and drew circles. A delicious shudder wracked Rachel's body, heat pooling low in her. _Where has that kiss been all my life?_ she wondered.

Rachel pulled his shirttails from his pants and began unbuttoning his shirt. Puck unbuttoned her blouse, too. She unfastened the waistband of his jeans and eased down his zipper, never breaking their kiss. Rachel pushed Puck's oxford down his broad shoulders and arms, then realized she hadn't unbuttoned the cuffs. They both laughed and stepped apart. Each unfastened their own sleeves, doffed their shirts and let them fall to the floor. Puck took advantage of their separation to slip off his jeans and toe off his socks.

"Bend down," Rachel said, crooking her finger. Noah quirked an eyebrow, but leaned toward her. She grabbed the hem of his wifebeater and peeled it off over his head. He stood there in nothing but navy boxer briefs that didn't leave much to the imagination. Rachel faced him in black knee-high boots, a red pencil skirt and black lace demi-bra that showed off her small-but-perky breasts. Her lips were red and swollen from kissing, and her eyes were big and soft. Noah's lips were bright and pouty, too. His eyes were an intense shade of green.

"I love you, Berry," he blurted when she reached for him again.

"What?" She dropped her hands, stunned.

"I…I didn't want to say it for the first time _during,_ you know? And I'm pretty sure I would have. I love you, Rachel. You know that, right?"

She rested one hand on her heart, one on his. "Yes, Noah, but it's so good to hear. I love you, too."

He kissed her again, deep and intense. They groped each other as they fumbled across her small apartment to her bedroom and her queen-sized bed. For Rachel, sex with Noah was awkward at first. She was used to being the best at things, and it was intimidating to have sex with a man who was clearly more expert at it. But among Noah's talents was getting Rachel to stop thinking. He drove all thoughts, worries and insecurities clean out of her head. At one point, the sensations were so intense that she almost made Puck stop, but then her competitive side kicked in. Rachel rode it out, and was rewarded with pleasure she hadn't thought herself capable of, at which point she was pretty sure she hit an F above High C.

He laughed and whispered, "I should have known you'd sing."

She lifted her chin, and defiantly replied, "I can't scream, no matter how much I want to. It damages your vocal chords, and they're my livelihood."

"You were thinking about that,_ during?_"

"No! It's a lifetime of training. I hit high notes when I ride roller coasters, too," she admitted. "Remember when we rode the Cyclone at Coney Island? Although I've never hit a note _that _high before. I didn't think I _could_ hit an F6! Thank you." She kissed him tenderly and snuggled closer.

"For the new note in your repertoire?"

"No!" she exclaimed, then giggled. "Well, I guess for that, too."

"C'mere, bashert." _Soul-mate. _For Puck, that was practically reciting a love poem. He was rewarded by a pure, 1000-watt Rachel Berry smile, and she hugged him tighter than a tiny girl like her should have been able. It wasn't her show smile—the one she pasted on to hide how she was feeling—but a real one: her smile that always made Puck feel warm and safe and happy.

They were so good together that Noah wanted to curse himself for not being here sooner—for not deserving her sooner. But it would have to be enough that Rachel was his now, and he was hers. He would fight to keep deserving her, and they could spend the rest of their lives together this way, night after night.

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**The whole section after the words "F above High C" is new. Do you like the revision?**


	15. Chapter 15

**I suggest you go back and re-read at least the end of chapter 14, because I revised it. For those of you who checked out "Arise" (****the expanded version of Chapters 13 and 14**), I hope you enjoyed it. I know I enjoyed writing it.

Thanks to shezz05 and mns1988 for **for naming me or my story a favorite. Thanks to liasonfan96706, beckg77 and SuzQQ for the reviews. You guys are the reason I do this!**

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"Berry, I need you to get over here _yesterday_, and bring clothes a tall girl could wear."

"What? Why am I clothing a tall girl, Noah?"

"Because that Megan kid is standing on my doorstep and she won't leave."

"That doesn't explain…"

"She's wearing red high heels and a trench coat, and it's not raining."

"Oh. Oh! I will be there in no time. Don't open the door."

"No shit, Babe! I mean, thanks."

After he hung up, the pounding began again. "Puck? I know you're home. I can hear the TV. You might as well open up. You'll be glad you did."

Puck had been back from California for a few days, and was adjusting back to his old life. Before the trip, he'd thought it would be dad-training-wheels, or a Dad-dress-rehearsal. Even without Drizzle around all the time, though, he kept thinking like a dad.

How many times had he fantasized a situation like this? Now that it was actually happening, it made him think of a guy his age trying something with Drizzle, which subsequently made him throw up in his mouth a little. He thought about telling Megan to go home, but sending a teenage girl in nothing but a trench coat out into NYC didn't seem right. He thought about calling her parents, but the situation could turn into a he-said-she-said, and he was so not in the mood to deal with any of that crap. He'd gotten his fill of sex scandals in high school. It was karma, he was sure, for all those cougars he banged. And now that he had Drizzle in his life, it was occurring to Puck how creepy those ladies had been for having sex with their kids' classmate.

Puck prayed Rachel would get there before his neighbors called the cops.

"Megan, is that you?"

Megan pivoted on her 3-inch-pumps and saw Rachel Berry, one of her idols, climbing the stairs to Puck's apartment. She tugged the belt of her trench to make sure it was securely fastened.

"How long have you been out here?" Rachel asked.

Megan shrugged. "A while."

"Oh, sweetie, you must be freezing. Bare legs in this weather? Let's get inside. You can borrow my yoga pants and one of Noah's sweatshirts," Rachel said, patting the duffle slung over her arm. She took out her keys and unlocked Puck's door. "I was just stopping by on my way to the gym. Don't worry, they're clean."

"You have his key? And his shirt?"

"He gave me the sweatshirt one day when I was cold and said I could keep it. Now let's get you inside," she said. "Noah, I'm home! Megan, go straight to the bathroom, first door on the left, and put these on. I must insist. I can't let Drizzle's best friend catch a cold, can I?"

The flustered girl tried to protest, but Rachel bustled her right into the bathroom and closed the door. Puck peeked out of the kitchen.

"Is it safe to come out?"

"Yes, you big coward."

"Hey, statutory is no joke, Rach. I have a strict rule: no random naked minors in my apartment."

"Even hot ones?"

"Especially hot ones. So, what now? Do we call her parents?"

"I think first we need to have a talk with her."

Megan emerged from the bathroom. Rachel's full-length yoga pants were capris on Megan, but between them and the sweatshirt, she was covered decently.

"Megan, we need to talk," Puck said

"Can we not?" she replied, trying to sound tough. "I just want to go."

"Look, you can't do stuff like this. It's dangerous," he said.

"Stuff like what? I didn't do anything."

"Megan, I'm serious. There are creepy men who would take advantage."

"I'm in charge of me, okay. No one can 'take advantage' of me."

"Noah, give us a moment," Rachel said. Puck threw up his hands in frustration, stalked off to his bedroom and closed the door. "Megan, I'm going to tell you what a wise girl once told me when I had a crush on an older man: you're attractive, but you come on so strong it can be grating. That makes love a challenge for women like us. So we look for guys we know we can't have. Noah can never reciprocate your feelings, which only reinforces your conviction that you're not worthy of being loved."

"Whatever! He's just a hot guy I want to fuck."

Rachel winced at the teen's crass language. "And there are no hot guys your age to have sex with in your town? You had to come all the way to New York? He's just so hot that you're willing to lose your best friend over it? Do you really think Drizzle could ever look at you the same way after you slept with her father?"

"Puck's not really her father! Josh is."

"Whatever he is to her, my question stands: would Drizzle feel the same way about you if you slept with Noah? Would she see him the same way? Do you honestly believe it wouldn't hurt her?"

Megan's shoulders slumped. Her face crumpled, and she started to cry.

"I'm going to hug you now, okay?" The diminutive brunette did her best to wrap her arms around the sobbing 5'9" redhead, who was 6' in her pumps.

"High school boys suck!"

Rachel sighed. "They do. Most of them, even the good ones, do terrible things in high school. Though as I recall, high school girls can be terrible, too."

"Thanks a lot."

"Actually, I was thinking about me. I once sent a girl to a crack house. Inactive, but still…"

"Okay, remind me never to get on your bad side."

"Oh, that girl wasn't even on my bad side. I was just afraid I'd have to compete with her for solos."

Megan's eyes bugged out of her head. She straightened and cleared her throat. "Are you going to tell Drizzle and my parents?"

"Depends. Is this an ongoing plan, or a one-time lapse in judgment?" Rachel asked, grabbing a tissue from the box on the table and handing it to Megan.

"One-time lapse!" Megan swore while dabbing at her tears, deftly managing not to smear her mascara.

"Okay, but you should consider therapy to work on your self esteem. I know I've found it very helpful. And remember, you're almost out of high school. One more year, then you'll be off to college or wherever life takes you. How are you getting home, Megan?"

"I have a MetroCard to get to 125th. I'll catch the Metro North to Stamford." She shrugged on her trench coat and tied it around her waist.

"Do you need help?"

"No, I've got it. What about your clothes?"

"They don't matter. Just…be safe, Megan. You know the older guy I had a thing for? He told me that someday I'd find a guy who would love me for all that I was, and the things I didn't like and wanted to change about myself would be the things he liked most."

"Was he right?"

"Yes and no. There were parts of me that I was right to want to change. I used to be so focused on my dreams that I couldn't even see anyone or anything else. But there were other things I wanted to change that were part of who I really am—who I'm supposed to be. And the right guy…Well, take my nose, for example. When I wanted to get a nose job, he begged me not to. He got my best friend to throw an anti-nose-job flash mob."

"Puck did that? You know, that doesn't exactly help me shake this crush."

"Well, as you said, you're in charge of you."

Megan nodded, then looked mortified. "Oh, God! We're all going to see your play this weekend. How am I going to face Puck in front of everyone?"

"Megan, one good thing about Puck: he's made enough hormone-driven bad choices that he's not going to judge you for this. You'll see. Just be a good friend to Drizzle. When I was your age, I was just starting to make friends. For years, I didn't have anyone I could confide in and rely on. You're lucky to have each other."

"Thanks, Rachel." Megan stood up tall and straightened her shoulders. She called out a loud, face-saving, "Bye, Puck! See you around!" and strode out of the apartment.

Noah eased out of his bedroom. "God bless you, Berry. Seriously. That would have been so much messier without you. What do we do now?"

"Now we wait and hope our talk worked."

"What did you tell her?"

"Basically that going after unattainable men demonstrates low self esteem; that the right person will love her for who she truly is, even the parts she doesn't like; and even if she _could _get with you, it would really hurt Drizzle."

"Ouch, Rach! Don't sugar coat it. Anything else?"

"I may have alluded to the time I sent Sunshine to the crack den."

"Okay, I'm going to go ahead and declare Operation Evade the Jailbait a success. She won't be back after that. I'm surprised she didn't run out screaming."

"She's so embarrassed. She's nervous about seeing you this weekend, so be nice. Well, nice, but not encouraging."

"You know you're not her, right? The diva who sent a little girl from the Philippines to a crack house? You've changed."

"Oh, I know that. But Megan doesn't."


	16. Chapter 16

**MsTyp0 and aussiegleek, thanks for making this story a favorite! I appreciate the reviews, shezz05, liasonfan96706, beckg77 and SuzQQ. I really love that you've commented on multiple chapters. It helps me keep writing. Aussiegleek18, I'm glad I could be the exception for you! liasonfan96706, she is TOTALLY his lobster.**

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"Megs, what's this?" I asked. Megan had agreed to lend me the purple booties in her closet, but rumpled on the closet floor was a giant grey sweatshirt. I couldn't remember ever seeing her wear a shirt that big. I picked up the shirt, and read the front: "OSU Rugby." On the back was the slogan, "Donate blood: Play rugby." The neck was a little stretched and the cuffs were frayed. It was obviously old. "Why do you have this?"

"What? I don't know."

"You don't know?" My face felt really hot, and it was all I could do not to yell. "You don't know why you have a man's sweatshirt from Noah's college?"

"Oh, that? I…" she stuttered, "It's…"

"Don't even try to lie to me, Megan. You may be able to fool most people, but not me, and you know it."

"Look, Drizzle, nothing happened, I swear!" Megan exclaimed, right hand over her heart. "And you know I'm not lying, cause you could tell if I was. You said so yourself!"

"Nothing happened? What the hell, Megs!" I was screaming at her, now. "That's what boys tell their girlfriends when they made out with the other girl, but didn't make it past third. Oh, God, please don't tell me you and Puck…"

"No! Seriously, Drizzle, I didn't even kiss him."

"What did you do?" I asked, quietly, but with a scary edge to my voice.

"It was so stupid. I went to his apartment, but Rachel was there. I don't care what they told you; I'm pretty sure she's his girlfriend. And I realized going there was stupid, because if something had happened with Puck, it would have hurt you, and I'd never want to do that."

"That still doesn't explain the sweatshirt. Did you, like, steal it?"

I could tell from the look on Megan's face that she considered lying, but then she sighed and looked at her hands. "No. I wish. I…I showed up wearing just a trench coat. Rachel made me go in the bathroom and put on some clothes."

"Megan, why? I know he's hot, but he's my dad." The thought of her and Noah made me want to puke.

"He's not your…"

"Shut up!" I interrupted, feeling angrier than I ever remember being. "I know who my dads are, okay? How could you do this? Why?"

"I wasn't thinking," Megan admitted, sitting cross-legged on her purple comforter. She twisted her fingers. "I didn't think about how you'd feel after. I didn't think about how _I'd _feel after. I just knew I wanted him, so I put on the shoes and the coat and, BAM, bought a train ticket. I didn't even take a bag with clothes to wear after. Rachel thinks I need therapy! She said I was going after Puck because I have low self-esteem. Like, I don't believe I'm worth loving? So I picked a guy who couldn't love me back. Isn't that the dumbest thing?"

Megan was still staring at her hands and twisting her fingers. She was lying—not about what Rachel said, but that she didn't believe Rachel.

* * *

"And then I just left, Minn. It sucked. I could tell she felt bad, and part of me wanted to comfort her, but I was also so mad. I mean, she wanted to seduce my bio-dad!"

It was bright on Quinn's side of the screen—probably because it was earlier in California and still light outside. Quinn looked really young with her hair in a ponytail. Her forehead was crinkled in concern, though. "That sucks, honey. I'm so sorry. On the bright side, she didn't actually do anything."

"Because Rachel was there," I grumbled.

"Puck would have put a stop to it, even if Rachel hadn't been there," Quinn reassured me, and I could tell she meant it. It was good to hear. I'd been pretty sure Noah wouldn't sleep with any 16-year-old, let alone my best friend, but he told me the first time we met that he was a slut. I thought he'd kind of grown out of it, and Quinn seemed to agree.

"I mean, I know Danno wouldn't have sex with her, but she totally would have dropped her coat in front of him. Who does that with their best friend's dad? I mean, yeah, at least it wasn't my _Dad-_dad, but…"

"Time-out, sweetie. 'Danno'?"

"Yeah, I wanted a name just for you guys—something more than your names, but that wouldn't make my parents feel bad. So 'dad' plus 'Noah' is 'Danno' and 'mom' plus 'Quinn' is 'Minn.' Do you like it?"

Quinn laughed and smiled a 100-watt smile. "Oh, I thought I misheard you when you said it the first time. I love it! I wish we were in the same room so I could hug you."

"I've got one for Finn, too."

"Finn, come here. Drizzle made us nicknames." Finn came into the room and crouched in front of the laptop. "Puck's 'Danno,' 'Dad' combined with 'Noah,' and I'm 'Minn,' 'Mom' combined with 'Quinn.'"

"So that makes me…'Fad?'" he guessed.

I giggled. "Actually, I considered it, but fads come and go. I was thinking 'Fiddy.'"

"Like the rapper?" Finn asked.

"Who?"

"Wow, that makes me feel old," Finn said.

"Fifty Cent was a really popular rapper when we were in middle school. Some people called him 'Fiddy,'" Quinn explained.

"Oh," I said with a laugh. "I was just thinking 'Finn' plus 'daddy' is 'Fiddy.'"

"Um, I gotta go. Something in my eye," Finn said, rushing away.

Quinn giggled and stage-whispered, "He loves it. He's such a softie. You wouldn't know it, because I've cried more since you found us that I had in the last decade, but usually I'm the stiff-upper-lip type, and he's the sensitive one."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"The crying?"

"Drizzle, being the one who's good at shutting down her feelings isn't really a good thing. I mean, it's useful in some situations, but there's a lot you miss out on. I'm so glad you found us. I don't' care if it makes me cry. They're good tears, Drizz."

"I'm glad I found you, too," I said, tearing up.

"Oh, sweetie. I want to hug you, but I can't! Go hug your mom."

I swiped a tear away and giggled. "I will, right after this. Look, I can't talk to my mom about Megan. It would get all weird. She already threatened to tell Megan's mom when Puck had to shut her down at the airport."

"Megan did something dangerous and hurtful—to you and to herself. Maybe her mom should know."

"When you were in high school, would you have told your mom?"

"No, but I never told my mom anything. She wasn't exactly a supportive person back then. When my dad threw me out, she just stood there and watched. She didn't take me back home until Dad left her for his secretary."

"Whoa, is Grandpa Fabray a hypocrite much?"

"Seriously. But my point is…well, for one thing, your mom is more supportive than mine was, and for another, all the secrets I kept and the lies I told in high school almost ruined everything. Honestly, if I'd been in counseling, I think I would have made better choices. You know I slept with Puck because I was jealous of Finn and Rachel singing together, and I felt fat that day? Puck was handsome, and he made me feel beautiful. I'm glad it happened, because otherwise you wouldn't be here, but it was a messed up thing to do. I had a boyfriend I loved, but cheated on him and gave my virginity to his best friend."

"It all worked out, though."

"Yeah, it did. I'm not saying I would change things. I'm saying it was a struggle and maybe we can help Megan so things aren't such a struggle for her."

"I don't think I can do it on my own," I admitted.

Quinn sighed. "Is your mom home?" I nodded. "Why don't you go get her, and we can discuss this together."

So I grabbed my laptop, put it on the kitchen table and explained to Mom that Quinn wanted to talk to her. We sat at the table.

"Hi, Sharron. Thanks for letting Drizzle come visit." She giggled. "I can't believe you're still calling her that." Yeah, my name is _hilarious. _I never get tired of people marveling at how weird it is. And with most people it's one thing, but these are the women who actually _named_ me. I mean, come on.

"Tell me about it!" Mom replied. "We just couldn't break the habit. You look great."

"So do you," Quinn said. "Drizzle's an amazing young woman. You…you're a wonderful mom."

Mom bit her lip, and her eyes looked shiny. "Thank you, Quinn."

I cleared my throat. "Um, Mom, I need to tell you something."

Her face looked alarmed. "What is it?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing _that bad._ It's about Megan."

"Oh, sweetie, is Megan pregnant? For a second there, I thought you were going to tell me _you_ were pregnant, and that's why you wanted Quinn's help, but that didn't make sense to me. I mean, as far as I know, you're still a vir…"

"Mom!" I could feel myself blushing. I told Mom the story of Megs and the trench coat. "Rachel told her she needs therapy. And I'm so mad at her, but…bad things could have happened to her by herself, practically naked after dark in the city and on the subway? Or, like, what if the guy hadn't been as good as Noah? I don't know what to do."

"Oh, honey, c'mere," Mom said and pulled me into a hug. I was crying into her chest, which made me feel like a little girl. "Thank you for telling me, baby. You have such a good heart."

I prayed that Megan would see it the same way.


	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks, Shezz05 for the review! Thanks to hippydragon500 for the favorites! Now, on with the story.**

* * *

"You bitch," Megan gritted through her teeth. We were face-to-face, inches apart, holding tiny Isabella Kinsey's left foot at full extension while she pulled her leg up behind her head in scorpion position.

"Um, can we not do this now?" I whispered. I needed to concentrate on keeping my arms locked so that Isa didn't fall and smash her face on the gym floor.

"No, it has to be now, because I'm grounded with no phone and no Internet except under supervision for homework. My dad can't even _look_ at me, and I have to go to a shrink!" Our arms trembled a little. I gripped Isa's Nike tighter.

"Focus, ladies!" our coach shouted. Kristi, a 28-year-old dancer and former University of Connecticut cheerleader, looked like a dainty little debutant, but Megs and I had always suspected that she's a dominatrix on the side. "HOLD YOUR POSITION. Leg higher, Isabella! Emma, get the pain out of your face," she called out to another build's flier. "Competition smile!"

"I didn't think she'd ground you. I just didn't want anything bad to happen to you, and you were doing dangerous things," I whispered.

"One, two and down, TOSS, Toe-touch, Cradle!" Kristi yelled as—in tandem with the other builds— we lowered Isa to prep, threw her in a basket toss, she executed a perfect toe-touch in the air, then we caught her. "Hmm…I think maybe I want to try Drizzle as flyer."

"Have fun hitting the floor!" Megan muttered.

"God, Megs, I'm sorry, okay!" I snapped. Usually I'd keep it under wraps at practice, but there was no way I was going to become a paraplegic just because my best friend was too mad to support me as flyer.

"Excuse me, ladies, is our practice interrupting your discussion?" Kristi asked. "Go run laps until I tell you to stop."

My lungs were aching already at the thought. Since they no longer had enough girls to base, fly and spot, the rest of the squad switched to jumps and tumbling passes as Megan and I ran. We had a whispered fight, half because running stole our breath and half because the gym is echoey, and we didn't want Kristi and the squad to hear.

"You ruin my life, now you have to ruin cheerleading? And she's delusional. Like Isa could hold up your fat ass."

I rolled my eyes, because I'm not fat. Megan's right, though: Isa is five feet tall and weights like nine pounds. She's way too little to be my base.

"Look, Megs, I'm sorry you got grounded, but…"

"Yeah, yeah: it's for my own good, you didn't think she'd ground me. That's because my mom's not like your mom, or your bio-mom or your fucking fairy godmother. I'm not a magic orphan that everybody thinks is perfect or whatever. And just because I think sex is awesome and you're a prude doesn't mean I'm a crazy slut who needs therapy."

"Okay, I _love_ how you tried to sleep with mybio-dad, but I'm the bad guy? Noah aside, I don't give a damn if you have sex, as long as it's safe and with someone who treats you right. And I'm sorry, but a 16-year-old having sex with a 32-year-old is just nasty, whether he's my dad or not. It's gross and dangerous and it would probably mess you up, because that's not a level playing field, okay? It's like begging for a guy to play creepy mind-games on you!"

"You're just jealous because you're frigid, and you know you'll never be a hot as me."

I tried not to take her words personally, because Megan always lashes out when she's upset or scared. "You know what? I used to be. I used to be jealous because guys make me nervous, but getting with them is so easy for you. I'm not jealous anymore, though, because there has to be a middle ground, Megs! Look, you're my best friend, and I don't want to fight anymore."

She wouldn't look at me. She just pressed her lips together. For a while we ran without speaking. Eventually our shoes struck the same rhythm on the floor. We ran in sync until we were breathless.

"Ask her to let us stop," Megs said. "She'll listen to you."

"No way. Last girl who asked to stop running had to do like a thousand toe-touch sit-ups!"

"I'm going to die. My lungs are burning. Seriously, what do we do?"

"Pray for death?" I wheezed.

Megan bumped her shoulder against mine. "Sorry I'm such a bitch."

I wanted to tell her that I didn't think she was a bitch, just someone who makes mistakes, like anyone. Instead, I said, "Hate you."

She smiled the tiniest smile. "Hate you more."


	18. Chapter 18

**Americans, I hope you enjoyed Thanksgiving. Other citizens of the world, I hope you had a lovely weekend. Thanks for the "favorites," Josh Leon chchchchia12, b5rw7, Idris Sweets, Caitriona3, LovelyFireFly, Rainbowbrite006, lavlilac, lucyLOL, ratherbereading125. Also, thanks for the reviews, shezz05 and SuzQQ! I took your advice and amped up the Puckleberry.**

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"You promised when we got back from LA that you would sing to me." Noah and Rachel were cozy in her bed. They were nude, facing each other, their legs tangled. Puck's right hand was stroking up and down the small of Rachel's back. His left hand was immersed in her hair on his pillow. He reveled in the smoothness of her skin and hair.

"I'm pretty sure I just promised that we'd eventually have dates and romance and shit."

She rolled her eyes, but forged on. "If you're romancing me, I think singing is implied."

He laughed. It amused him that a woman who had a professional singer serenading her, like, as her job still wanted to be serenaded by him in her free time. It was kind of nice for his ego, though.

"Hand me your iPod." She grabbed it off her nightstand and handed it over. He wanted to pick a song she would love. Puck went the extra mile and selected her "Broadway" playlist, then looked for a love song that he could stand that would make Rachel melt. Noah saw one he knew, because she played it so often.

Noah set the iPod on his nightstand. He cleared his throat, hummed for a second to get the key right in his head, then began, "We all lead such elaborate lives—wild ambitions in our sights. How an affair of the heart survives days apart and hurried nights seems quite unbelievable to me. I don't want to live like that. Seems quite unbelievable to me. I don't want to love like that. I just want our time to be slower and gentler, wiser, free."

Rachel was so excited that she giggled and bit her lower lip as he sang the second verse. Her mood shifted, though, as he belted, "This may not be the moment to tell you face to face, but I could wait forever for the perfect time and place." It gave her chills.

Without premeditation, she joined him on the duet section: "We all lead such elaborate lives! We don't know whose words are true. Strangers, lovers, husbands, wives: hard to know who's loving who!" Then she sang Aida's line, "Too many choices tear us apart. I don't want to live like that."

Noah returned, "Too many choices tear us apart. I don't want to love like that. I just want to touch your heart. May this confession…"

"Be the start," they finished in unison. Rachel's eyes were glassy, and she sniffled.

"Oh, Noah, we _do_ have too many days apart and hurried nights!"

"Rach, babe, don't get so dramatic, 'kay? I was trying to turn you on, not make you sad."

"But what if our different schedules drive us apart? What if RJ does get Evita and I become a mute?"

"What? Berry, I have no idea what you're talking about. Partly because some of my blood flow has been diverted from my brain…" She rolled her eyes. "But mostly because I'm pretty sure you haven't given me enough information."

"Okay, my agent said RJ was hinting that he's in talks with Andrew Lloyd Webber's people, and if all goes well, he'll revive Evita on Broadway. I've always wanted to play Eva Peron, and I'm one of the few prominent Broadway actresses with a strong enough voice who has the right appearance and acting skills to pull off teen Evita _and_ diva Evita. I was nervous to be up against the crème de la crème, but then Kurt reminded me, 'Who are you worried about, Sutton Foster? She's in brilliant voice these days, but she's 50! A marvelously-preserved 50, but she can't pull off an Argentine teen.'"

"Okay, now explain the mute part."

"Well, the score is notoriously hard to sing. In her memoir, the great Patti LuPone said if she missed the first D, in 'Eva Beware of the City', it was a train wreck. 'Evita' so strained her voice that she didn't speak a word when she wasn't on stage for 19 months. It would be an adjustment, but I suspect you might enjoy the quiet for a change."

"Rachel, I love you, but there is no way you could go a year-and-a-half without talking!"

"Well, I probably wouldn't have to. Remember, her Juilliard training was in drama, not voice, and she'd never helmed a Broadway show long-term when she was cast in Evita. I have. Also, because Evita's score is one of the hardest, I practiced it obsessively Freshman year of high school."

"Of course you did," he replied with a chuckle, stroking her cheek.

"I still use 'Eva Beware of the City' as a warm-up, and I nail the D every time: 'My _fa_ther's other family were middle class'!"

Puck smooched the hinge of her jaw. "Berry, if it makes you happy, go for it. You'll kill it, and if you can't talk, we can still text. No criticizing my grammar and shit, though."

"Done, as long as you promise not to make fun of my emoticons."

"Just no animated ones, okay? They're like something my Nana would send."

Rachel laughed harder than Noah's comment justified. "What's so funny, Rach?" he asked.

"Oh, talking about Patti LuPone reminded me of the first time I met her. We were in the city for Nationals, and Finn took me to Sardi's, where she was dining. But the funny part is, for the rest of the date, I kept imagining you, Artie and Sam serenading us. And you were playing the accordion." She giggled again.

"What the hell, babe? I knew you fantasized about me, but an accordion? What were we singing?"

"'Bella Notte,' from Lady and the Tramp. You even managed to make the accordion look attractive. I should have known then."

"Damn straight!" he replied. "Well, my pick for a seduction song failed. Should I sing 'Bella Notte' instead?"

"How 'bout you kiss me instead?"

"Even better."


	19. Chapter 19

**Thanks, TommyH, shezz05, SuzQQ, Unsuspecting Sunday Afternoon, MarkandLexiefan and BlueRoses1212 for your reviews. Thanks for naming my story a favorite, butterfly67, musicisherheart, GracefulReader, BlueRoses1212, MyNewPenName, and gleeks4eva! SuzQQ, you're about to get your wish…only not. Enjoy!**

* * *

Finn never could get his eyes open until he'd splashed some water on his face and had a cup or two of coffee. When his phone-alarm blared, he fumbled to turn it off, stumbled to the bathroom, and leaned forward to turn on the water in the sink. Pieces of plastic clattered into the bowl, so he struggled to open his eyelids. He squinted at a small pile of plastic sticks and picked one up and squinted at a symbol in a little widow on its surface: smiley face. He picked up another: +. He picked up a third: "Pregnant." His eyes popped open at that and a bright smile spread across his face.

"Hey," Quinn said, perched on the edge of the bathtub. Finn tried to put on a blank face before turning around. She was in a cute pink nighty, her feet bare and her hair tousled. Even without makeup, Finn thought she was the prettiest woman in the world.

"Hey, babe. How you doing?"

She grinned the tiniest bit. "I'm good."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she said, the smile expanding.

"YES! Yes, yes, YES!" Finn shouted, hugging his wife and twirling them both around, barely avoiding the tub, sink and toilet. Quinn giggled. "Wait, it's mine, right?" he teased.

A few years ago, she'd have been mad about the joke, but now she was happy that what had once almost destroyed them was now just a piece of how they'd become a couple.

"Too soon to tell, Hudson, but I'm rooting for you."

"Thanks Fabray. That means a lot to me." They both laughed. He looked into Quinn's shining green eyes and had to kiss his wife. Then, as the kiss broke, he exclaimed, "I can't wait to tell my mom and Burt! And Kurt's gonna be so excited!"

"Sweetie, let's wait until the second trimester, okay? Just in case?"

"Okay," he said, but his face fell.

"Finn, I know how you feel, but if we tell your parents and my parents, all of Lima will know, and if we tell Kurt, everyone from Glee will know. If something goes wrong, I don't want to have to tell a hundred people."

"No, I get it. I do," he said, trying to look happy but only achieving a sad puppy expression.

She sighed. "Okay, you can tell ONE person. Just pick someone who you can trust not to spread it around."

* * *

"I'm going to have a half-bio-sibling? That is so awesome!" I knew the news was going to be big when the Skype session began and they were holding hands and fidgeting. Plus, our usual Skype date is for Thursday. The announcement did not disappoint.

"Yeah, I was just so excited that I had to tell somebody, and I knew we could trust you," Finn said.

"So, what do you think?" Quinn asked. She was studying my face super-closely like my mom does when she thinks I had a bad day at school but I won't talk about it.

"Minn, Fiddy, I'm so psyched! I always wanted a sibling, but Mom and Dad said I was kid enough for them."

"But you can't tell anyone," Quinn admonished. "We're not telling anyone else until the third trimester, which isn't for six weeks."

"Oh, God, I'm terrible at secrets. Although it should be fine as long as no one asks me about it directly…and why would they?"

"You'll do great," Quinn said.

"Just watch out for my brother," Finn said. "He can, like, _smell_ gossip, and he's really good at convincing people to do stuff they'd normally never do. In high school, he once convinced Rachel to dress like a hooker, and he talked me into telling Quinn's parents about you by singing this old, cheesy song—Having My Baby."

I giggled, and so did Quinn. "I just had a vision of you telling my dad about _this _baby the same way." She looked right at me through the monitor. "I don't know quite how to say this, but…I didn't ever think there would be a time when that memory of my dad throwing me out wouldn't hurt. But ever since you found me and I found out that you forgive me for putting you up for adoption, it's not as painful."

"I didn't forgive you, exactly. I mean, I was never mad at you for it. For a while I was scared you wouldn't like me or want me around even now. But you do, so…so I feel better, too."

"Oh, and now we know why I cried so much when you were visiting. I mean, I probably would have cried _some, _but…"

"But the hormones didn't help," I said.

"Speaking of," she said, and swiped away a teardrop, "I want to hug you so bad! Go hug Josh or Sharon."

"And you hug Finn!"

I scrambled out of the room, slid on my socks across the hardwood kitchen floor, and squeezed my dad around the waist.

"Hey, hon'! What's up?" he asked with a laugh.

"Finn and Quinn are having a baby. SHH, don't tell!" Then I sock-skated back out of the room and ran back down the hall to my bedroom. "Mom and Dad don't count, right? Cause if they do? Oops."

"Heh," Finn said. "You really are terrible with secrets. Don't worry about it, though. We just don't want our friends or family or anyone in Lima to know yet."

"Cool. Although tonight is going to be even more awkward, now!"

"Why? What's tonight?" Quinn asked.

"Oh, well, Rachel got tickets for Mom and Dad and Megs and me to Oklahoma! and we're having dinner with her and Kurt and Danno. It'll be the first time Megs and Danno are in the same room since The Incident."

"Oh, no!" Quinn said with a giggle. "That is awkward!"

"Hey, doesn't Rachel get a nickname?" Finn asked.

"Megs and I've been calling her my B.F.G: Broadway Fairy Godmother."

"Berry would love that!" Quinn exclaimed.

"Totally," Finn said.

"Yeah, but it doesn't feel quite right. I'm trying to find something cozier."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Finn said.

"Speaking of? Promise me one thing: no crazy names for the baby!"

"What?" Finn asked. "I'm awesome at picking out names! This time I was thinking Cinnamon for a girl or Torque for a boy, because…"

"NO!" Quinn and I interrupted.

"Cinnamon is a stripper name," I explained.

"And Torque? No, honey. Just…no," Quinn said, gently patting Finn's hand.

* * *

**I'm with Finn: Cinnamon is an adorable name! You should leave comments on the story now. Also, what _should_ Finn and Quinn name their baby?  
**


	20. Chapter 20

**Thanks to auhae55, EmmieAnne234, nacyfan17 and GoldMotel for making this story a favorite. And A big thanks to sillystarshine, SuzQQ, gleek30, ObviouslyADreamer, auhaes55, IsisLes5 and PuckleberryShipper326 for commenting so quickly. It took WEEKS to get six comments on the prior chapter, but you guys did it in less than 24 hours. Here's a BIG NEW CHAPTER as your reward!**

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During intermission, Rachel tried to do her normal routine of relaxation techniques and vocal warm-ups, but something was off. All week she'd noticed that being in love made her performance better. When Curly sang to her, she felt the butterflies in her stomach stronger than ever before. In the scenes with Judd, she just thought about what it would be like to be taken from Noah or have Noah taken from her, and the tears were instant. Her costars had noticed the difference, and everyone was stepping up their game.

Tonight, though, Rachel felt more nervous about performing than she had in recent memory. Could it be just because Noah was there with Kurt, Drizzle, Megan, Sharon and Josh? Why would that make her nervous? She shook it off as the band began to play, and once again, she became Laurie. At one point, she could have sworn she recognized her daddy's distinctive laugh in the audience. It had taken all her willpower not to break character and look through the lights to see the individuals in the audience.

Before she knew it, the show was over. The cast took their bows. They sang one last refrain and exited the stage. Then, for some reason, the house lights didn't come up. Then she heard the assistant stage manager, Mark, exclaim, "Cast back on stage, please. Back on stage for a special announcement."

Rachel was the last one back out there, a puzzled smile on her face. "What's happening?" she whispered to Jake, who played Curly.

"You'll see!" he whispered back. Then, a man with short-buzzed hair swaggered onto the stage, microphone in hand and Jake nudged Rachel forward.

"Noah? What are you doing?" she asked.

"Rachel, in some ways this is really fast, but it other ways I should have done this a long time ago. My mom's here and your dads are here…"

She squinted and saw them waving frantically next to Kurt and Drizzle. Her heart felt like a balloon filling with helium, floating until it might lift her off the ground. Was he really about to ask her…

He dropped to a knee. "Rachel Barbra Berry, will you marry me?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, feeling happier than when she won her first Tony. He slipped a diamond ring on her finger, then stood and hugged her tight. Then she stepped back, adding, "On one condition." The audience's cheers ground to a startled halt. "You have to sing to me." She'd always fantasized about Noah performing on a Broadway stage, and since he didn't have the acting bug, this might be her only chance. She was going to take full advantage.

"Oh, I got that covered. Hey, promise not to turn me in for being non-Equity?" He asked the audience. The locals laughed. "And help me out. You'll know when. Hit it!" The orchestra began to play, but Rachel, a bit stunned, took a second to catch on.

"You prepared a number with the orchestra?"

He just raised an eyebrow and smirked, then sang in his velvety, pop-music voice, "When it began…I can't begin to knowin', but then I know it's growing strong." She recognized the song and giggled, feeling happier, even, than when she'd won her second Tony (which hadn't been better than the first Tony, just more surprising). "Was in the spring, and spring became the summer. Who'd have believed you'd come along? Hands, touching hands. Reaching out…touching me, touching you. Oh, sweet Caroline!" He pointed at the audience, who sang, "BAH-BAH-BAH!" "Good times never seem so good. I've been inclined to believe it never would!"

The rest of the cast stood arm-in-arm and swayed, adding unobtrusive backup vocals. When the song was over, Rachel slid an arm around his waist, beamed and explained to the audience, "Noah first sang that song to me in glee club 17 years ago. And now I'm going to marry him!" Everyone cheered.

They turned up the house lights as the stage became a group hug of the whole cast and crew. Some ushers managed to get Rachel's family and friends up there, too. Kurt and Rachel squealed and jumped up and down together until they heard Quinn's voice faintly exclaiming, "Hummel, you're making me sick!" He had whipped out his tablet the minute he realized something was up, and had broadcast the proposal over the Internet to their nearest and dearest. Now Quinn and Finn's faces were on the screen to offer their congratulations via video chat. Kurt's bouncing had made the image of the theater swing so wildly Quinn had gotten nauseated. She'd avoided puking so far this pregnancy and was hoping to maintain her streak.

"Congratulations, guys!" Finn exclaimed.

"Thanks, man." Puck replied. "That means a lot."

They each fist-bumped the camera, causing Quinn, Rachel and Drizzle to roll their eyes as Kurt indignantly found a microfiber cloth to clean the lens.

"I used to call you my Broadway Fairy Godmother…" Drizzle said.

"You _did?" _Rachel interrupted, looking even more thrilled than she had a moment before, which Puck had not thought possible.

"Yeah, but now you're going to be my Ema!"

Tears sprung into Rachel's eyes, and she buried her face in Puck's chest. He stroked her hair and told his daughter, "That's sweet, Drizz."

"I don't get it," Kurt admitted.

"What's it mean?" Quinn asked.

"Oh, well…this might sound silly, but…Ema's Hebrew for Mom. I have two gentile mothers: Mom and Minn. Well, Rachel will be my Jewish mom—my Ema." Rachel let go of Puck and grabbed the slender blonde, squeezing her until she squeaked. Rachel was even ugly-crying, something she never did in public unless a role called for it. (In musical theater, roles rarely did.) That's how Puck knew just how touched Rachel was by the name. That and she was speechless.

"She loves it," he assured his daughter.

Rachel nodded mutely and sniffled. Her daddy broke into their circle and gave her a big hug. Her dad handed her a tissue. As she dabbed at her eyes and nose, the engagement ring caught the light. She really looked at it for the first time. "Oh, Noah!" It was his Nana's sapphire ring that the Puckerman family had passed down through the generations. As a little girl, she'd admired it on the elder Mrs. Puckerman's hand at temple.

"Nana sent it with Ma."

"Suzanne?" Rachel craned her neck looking for Puck's mom but couldn't see very far, as she was surrounded by taller people.

"Right behind you, sweetie!"

"Oh, Suzanne, thank you!" She turned and embraced Noah's mother.

"No, thank _you, _dear girl! You've done so much for my Noah! And now you're going to give me beautiful grandbabies. Speaking of which!" She pushed through the group to Drizzle. "Come here, Bubeleh. Come give your Bubbe Puckerman a kiss!"

Noah rolled his eyes, as his mother's observance of Jewish culture swung wildly depending on the topic. She'd eat pork even on a high holy day, but she didn't want her son to mate with a goy. If he _did_, though, the resultant shiksa granddaughter would apparently be addressed with more Yiddish than Suzanne had ever used with Noah or Sarah. Maybe it was being a bubbe all of a sudden?

Drizzle's forehead wrinkled a little in nervousness, and Sharon and Josh's eyebrows were raised. Megan just stood back, trying to remain inconspicuous. Suzanne smooched Drizzle's forehead and both cheeks repeatedly before Noah dragged her away, exclaiming, "Take it easy, Ma!"

"Don't worry, Mrs. Puckerman," Rachel's daddy interjected. "Rachel and Noah have plenty of time to have babies. We gave Rachel the gift of extended fertility for her 22nd birthday."

"You _what_?" Puck asked, astonished.

"Dad and Daddy paid for me to freeze some eggs so that my biological clock wouldn't limit my career," Rachel replied, matter-of-factly. "I did it right after the run of Funny Girl ended, but just before you moved here from Ohio. I donated a few while I was at it. Just paying it forward, you know?"

Puck was stunned by the news of the lengths the Mr.'s Berry had gone to ensure their daughter's Broadway career would be a success. "Wow. That's just…we'll talk about that later. For now, we need to get out of here or we'll be late for our own party at Carmines."

"Now, how long have you been dating," Rachel's dad asked as their group worked their way back stage where they would slip out the back. "Suzanne said it's been two weeks but that can't be right."

"No, it's true, Dad…although we haven't actually been on a date yet." She blushed a little. "It's more that we weren't a couple, and then we were, and it felt stupid that we hadn't always been. So now we're getting married!"

"See, _that's_ when you can say, 'to make a long story short,' Babe!" Noah said, smiling proudly at his fiancé's concise explanation.

* * *

"You okay?" I asked. "You're awfully quiet."

Megan tucked a curly red strand behind her ear. "Yeah. I'm fine, Drizzle. I thought tonight would be embarrassing, but I shouldn't have worried. Puck hasn't even noticed I'm here. It just felt weird to be there for that intense moment, you know?"

"Don't worry about that, Megs. Noah's the one who decided to propose in front of the whole audience at the Nederlander. He said once he decided to propose, he knew it had to be a grand gesture, because 'Rachel Berry would require something big and dramatic.'"

"I meant more on stage, after. He…I'd never seen you with them for very long before, and he's your _dad_. I mean, Sharon and Josh are your mom and dad, but Puck and Quinn are, too. Hell, even Finn and Rachel. Part of how I convinced myself that going after Puck was okay was because he might have had your DNA, but he wasn't your dad—not really. I mean, he gives you up and 16 years later, he's your dad?"

"I know. It happened so fast. I didn't know I could love someone so fast."

"Ugh, I did. Taylor, you know?" Taylor had been Megan's first boyfriend. He arrived at our school the first day of sophomore year, they had fallen in love by the second week school, and after the Homecoming Dance he'd been Megan's first. Then they'd broken up when he decided to take Ava Miller to the Winter Ball. "I just didn't know it could happen so fast without hormones and alcohol involved."

I giggled. "I told Noah it felt really fast, but he said he never stopped loving me. He was just glad when we met that I loved him back."

"It's hard, in moments like this, not to be jealous of you."

"Your parents love you, Meggles." I hadn't called Megan that since the end of third grade when she declared the nickname too childish and we'd reached the compromise of "Megs." "When I called to beg them to let you out of your grounding for the night, you know what your dad said to me?"

"You got Keith to talk?" Megan asked, flabbergasted. I guess she'd assumed my mom had talked her mom, Jane, into letting her go.

"He said, 'I'm glad you're not too mad at Megan. Her spirit gets ahead of her brain sometimes, but you _know _she_…_" I did my best grumbling imitation of Keith Harmon.

"He did not!"

"He totally did."

"Classic Daddy. Trails off at the end of the sentence, leaving the nicest part to your imagination. God forbid he should give me a direct complement."

"But you know what he meant, right? What he was going to say?"

"Probably something about me having a good heart, deep down, and that I would never intentionally hurt you."

I bumped shoulders with her. "Good guess."

* * *

**Drizzle managed to keep her secret if only because there was so much already happening. BAM! What did you think of the proposal?  
**


	21. Chapter 21

**Thanks to JessTisdall, MysticEyesx, ajmac and Broadwaybabe22 for naming this story a favorite! Thanks to Unsuspecting Sunday Afternoon, gleek30, IsisLes5, BlueRoses1212, auhaes55, sillystarshine, EmmieAnne234 and Running-Wild22 and MarkandLexieFan.**

****** Running-Wild22 is a rockstar reviewer who just found my story and commented on 16 chapters instead of just one comment on the last chapter. You are so kind! **

******Now, to continue our story:**

* * *

Rachel groped for the ringing phone on her bedside. "Hello?" she grumbled.

"Rachel? Sorry to call at this ungodly hour," her agent, Maria, said. Rachel squinted at a clock across the room. It was 7:30 a.m. In high school she would have considered this quite late, but now she ran on theater hours. Plus, this was her theater's dark day—her day off.

"What is it, Maria? Did R.J. get the rights?"

"Oh, no word on that, yet. But did you really get engaged onstage at the Nederlander Saturday, or was that a stunt?"

"Who's calling you _now_?" Puck rumbled and buried his head under his pillow.

"Sorry, Noah," Rachel whispered and wriggled out from under his arm and the covers. She slipped into the living room.

"Was that him? He's _there?_ This is real?"

"Of course it's real! Why wouldn't it be real? How do you even know about it?"

"Sweetie, it's gone viral. And I wouldn't put it past that far-cocked publicist of yours to pull a stunt like that. _Nena_, I thought we were close! You never even told me you'd started seeing him, and I had to find out you're engaged from Perez Hilton? The video made it seem like you'd been with Noah forever—high school sweethearts—

but you always swore you and Noah were just friends!"

Rachel laughed, first because her Latina agent was fond of using Yiddish, but not very good at it; then because she could understand Maria's confusion about her relationship with Noah.

"First of all, Jane is not_ farcockteh._ Second of all, didn't Noah start the proposal by saying it was really fast? We've only been a couple for a few weeks. And he wasn't my high school sweetheart. We were friends, and then we weren't, and then he was my boyfriend for a week. We eventually became friends, and we've friends ever since. Until two weeks ago. And I had no idea he was going to propose! We haven't even had our first date, yet."

"Oh, they're going to love that."

"They? Who is 'they'?"

"The talk shows! Daytime talk and late night. I've been getting calls all morning. That's why I woke you. They want you and your fiancée. I just wanted to make sure this was real before Jane got you up to your neck in bad press. Remember when you were in high school and Kim Kardashian had that disastrously-short marriage?"

"Not really."

"Well, it led to bad press. So unless this is the real deal…"

"It is! He gave me his nana's ring!"

"_Ay, que lindo_! Fine, I'll go over your schedule with Jane. Do you think you can get Noah to join you on the circuit? It would be good for his band."

"I'll talk to him. Although if he has to sing Sweet Caroline at every appearance, probably not."

"Hmm…that's probably what they'll want, but I'll see what I can negotiate."

Puck padded out of the bedroom in his boxers, rubbing his hand over the center of his head (a throwback from his Mohawk days). He gave a little nod in Rachel's direction and went straight to the kitchen. Puck groaned at the sight of her cappuccino/espresso maker, which made great java but looked like a space ship and was daunting when he was exhausted.

"Yeah, Maria, I'll see what I can negotiate, too. Bye."

The coffee was brewing as Rachel wrapped her arms around Noah's waist, hugging him from behind.

"Thank you, again, for the wonderful proposal."

"Thanks for saying yes. Who was on the phone?"

"My agent. She says the proposal has gone viral."

"Viral?"

"Kurt recorded it. He told me he put in online for our friends to see. People must have passed it on. Maria said she found out via Perez Hilton, and now several talk shows and late night shows want to book us."

"Us?" Puck asked, fixing their drinks. He handed one to Rachel, and they sat at the small, round café table in her kitchen. They huddled over their drinks, carefully sipping. He got up without a word and stalked off, which made Rachel nervous, but he returned with her robe.

"You look hot drinking coffee naked, but you're shivering and shit."

"Aw!"

He winced. "Ugh. No awing, okay. And can we talk about the crazy egg thing?"

"Noah, being vegan is not crazy! Besides, most restaurants in the city now provide vegan options. It's not like when we were kids in Lima and I had to just order steamed vegetables at Breadstix."

"What? I wasn't talking about the vegan thing…although we need to talk about whether you can handle meat in the fridge when we move in together. And how we're going to feed our kids."

Rachel's face was flushed at his mention of 'our kids.' This was really happening She was going to marry Noah Puckerman and have his babies! "Actually, Noah, have you ever considered veganism? It's better for the environment and for the poor animals."

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them with a look of horror. "Rachel, I just tried to imagine my life without meat, and it wasn't worth living. Sorry. Don't try to change me on this and I won't try to change you."

"Okay. I can handle cooked meat dishes ordered in, but not raw meat in the fridge or watching animal flesh cook." He nodded in silent acceptance of the compromise. "But how _will _we feed our kids? I plan to breastfeed, but after that I just assumed my kids would be vegan."

Puck sighed. "You feed 'em what you want, I'll feed 'em what I want, and when they're old enough, we'll let them decide."

"I don't like the idea of you giving them meat."

"If I don't, their bodies won't have the enzymes to process meat, so when they finally try it, they'll get sick. Don't try to get all tricky on me, Berry!"

She giggled. "I wasn't, I swear! That strategy never even occurred to me!" He could tell from her tone that she wished it had, because it was a brilliant. "Wait, you said you weren't talking about veganism, so what crazy egg thing?"

"Your dads froze your eggs?"

"No, they merely paid for me to freeze my eggs. I had read an article about the fact that technology had advanced to the point that it was finally feasible to freeze unfertilized eggs. I had a list of shows I wanted to be in before having children, but I definitely wanted to give birth one day. I began to worry: what if it took me so long to achieve my Broadway goals that I was infertile by the time I was ready to be a mom? When I mentioned my worries to Dad and Daddy, they said they had enough funds to help me freeze some eggs."

"Uh-huh. Look, Your dads are great. They took care of you, stuck by you. But they kinda genetically engineered you and raised you from birth to be a Broadway star."

Rachel's jaw dropped. "This is _my _life, _my_ dream, not theirs!"

"Hon', your middle name is Barbra, and they've had you in singing and dance competitions since before you could walk or talk."

"They said I could stop if I didn't like it, but I did like it," she snapped.

"Yeah, but you didn't _know_ anything else. That's all I'm saying. For every Broadway activity or class, our kid gets a sport or club or whatever that has nothing to do with singing or dancing."

"Until the child is old enough to decide for his- or herself."

"Yep."

Rachel sighed. "Agreed. Speaking of when we live together: we need to get a real estate agent to find a place big enough for both of us. Oh, I'm going to love having a piano in my apartment instead of just a keyboard!"

"Can't we just move in together here or at my place?"

"And each get rid of half our belongings?" Rachel asked, incredulous. Neither of them had much extraneous stuff. She went to her front door to grab the paper, which the paperboy had delivered.

"New York real estate," Noah grumbled, then buried his face in his hands.

"Don't forget to check the obits," Rachel said, handing him the section. Puck quirked an eyebrow. "I know it sounds terrible," Rachel replied, "but I've heard it's the best way to find a vacant apartment in this neighborhood!"

"Yeah, well, I was thinking…" He pulled her into his lap. "It's your dark day. I have to work from 9 until 6, but then we could finally have our date."

"Really?" she squeaked.

"Really. Just don't pick some place that's impossible to book at the last moment."

"It doesn't have to be fancy," Rachel said. Puck raised an incredulous eyebrow, and she giggled. "No, really. Your proposal was grand enough to satisfy me for a while."

"Warn me when that time is up," Noah said. Rachel laughed.

"Oh, but back to our original topic…"

"Berry, I don't have a clue. What was our original topic?"

"The viral proposal! Talk show bookings? You could even perform with your band."

"What, Sweet Caroline 50 times? The guys would kill me."

"Maria's negotiating."

"Maybe we could turn one of the band's songs into a duet."

"Oh, Noah, that's brilliant!" she exclaimed, springing out of his lap. "The shows would probably agree to different song if we're singing together. I'll call Maria."

"And I'll make a reservation for 7 at Zen Palate." It was Rachel's favorite vegan restaurant. She beamed, and they rushed off to complete their tasks.

* * *

**I just realized: that far in the future, there might not even _be_ hard-copy newspapers anymore! Weird.**


	22. Chapter 22

**So much has changed, both on the show and in real life, that this story makes me sad, now, but I'm trying to go back and wrap it up in a way that will be satisfactory for characters and readers alike. **

* * *

Danno held the microphone confidently and looked right at the camera with his most seductive gaze as the band started playing "No One Like Me." He stole a glance at his fiancé at her microphone. Today my Broadway Fairy Godmother was wearing her Rock-Chick look: short fake leather skirt with matching knee boots and a red tank top, and her hair in wild curls. It was perfect for the song, which Danno says was musically influenced by John Mellancamp's "Hurt So Good." It hadn't been written as a duet, but the guys liked to play it, and it showed off Rumble Strip's signature sound. Puck had divided the lyrics, tweaking them a bit for Rachel to sing.

Puck crooned, _"I was younger. I was dumber. Stealing older women's hearts, stealing an ATM. Then you came a long. And I knew that was over. Baby, I knew that a change had to start."_

Rachel harmonized with him for the chorus: "_Hope my baby don't end up with a boy like me;_ _Hope my baby don't end up with a boy like me._ _Well, they say love is blind and hearts are free, but I pray she won't fall for a boy like me."_

Then she took the next verse: "_I was younger. I was dumber._ _Breaking laws and breakin' too many hearts!_ _Then you came along, and I knew that was over._ _Baby, I knew that a change had to start."_

Again they harmonized on the chorus, but this time Rachel took the lead: "_Hope my baby don't end up with no one like me;_ _Hope my baby don't end up with no one like me._ _Well, they say life is long and hearts are free_, _but I pray my baby won't fall for no one like me._

They split the bridge, with Rachel taking the first half, and Puck the last:

_"Nobody ever loved me like I love you. Nobody ever showed me what love could do."_

_"You need a man who knows what love should be. You deserve more than a boy as broken as me."_

Noah sang, "_Hope my baby don't end up with a boy like me."_

Rachel replied, "_Hope my baby don't end up with no one like me."_

Then belted together, "_Well, they say life is long and hearts are free, but I pray she doesn't fall…"_

_"For a boy," _Puck crooned. "_For no one," _Rachel added.

Then they finished the line together:_"… like me."_

The house lights came up on the yelling and applauding fans as the talk show host beckoned for Noah and Rachel to come over to the couches.

"Isn't the band coming over?" James asked, straightening his tie. James Ruiz had the most successful show in late night TV and was known for his interesting interviews.

"Nah. Jason and Marcus said they'd rather focus on the music, and Tony hates talking on camera." The camera focused on Jason, a tall, skinny white keyboard player with jaw-length blond hair; Marcus, a muscular black guitarist with well-sculpted dreads that flew when he played the drums; and Tony, a small-dark-and-handsome Latino bass player, who hid his gorgeous brown eyes behind strands of his shoulder-length black hair. Each man nodded when he was mentioned, although Tony nodded and blushed. "They're the best."

"Is it true you actually stole an ATM?"

"Noah…" Rachel began, her voice equal parts comfort and warning.

Puck scrubbed his right hand at the base of his skull, then swept it up the path where his Mohawk used to be and sighed. "Don't worry about it, babe. If it was a secret, I wouldn't have put it in the song."

"And is this the first song Puck wrote about you?" James asked Rachel.

"Oh, it's not about me!" Rachel laughed and Noah rolled his eyes.

"It's about my kid. _Baby-_baby, not _girlfriend_-baby. God, Rach, I don't think I'll ever be able to call you 'baby' again. I just threw up in my mouth."

"Noah, that's disgusting," Rachel replied in a scandalized whisper, then pasted on a big, fake show smile. "Can you please stay on topic?"

I giggled. So, when you go on a talk show, you don't just show up and go out and talk to the host. You come early and a producer interviews you. They figure out your talking points and try to find ways to make the interview different than the last 20 interviews the celebrity's given over the past month. Danno and Ema have been doing a pretty good job at it: since they've been friends for so long they have plenty of stories. This is the closest they've come to talking about me, and I don't think this was covered in their pre-show interview.

"You have a baby? I didn't know that," James said. "Why didn't I know that?"

"I don't have a baby. I had a baby."

The talk show host looked stricken. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize…"

Rachel jumped in, "Oh, nothing like that. She's fine."

"Nothing happened to her, man. She's awesome. She's in high school," Danno said.

"Wow. You must have been young when you had her."

"Too damn young."

"But she's not your daughter, Rachel?"

"Not biologically, but she's very dear to me."

"Who's her mom?" James asked. Noah just stared at him. "Okaaay, I guess you're not going to answer that one," the talk show host said and the audience laughed nervously. "Was it hard raising a baby when you were so young?"

Noah sighed, looked annoyed but resigned to the fact that this conversation wasn't going away. "I didn't raise her. We gave her up for adoption, but that was hard, too."

"And you're still in touch, it sounds like? Isn't that unusual?"

"It's a goddamn miracle."

I giggled and he must have heard it somehow, because he smirked at me and winked. Then a camera turned on me. My parents looked like deer in the headlights. I tried to look like a normal person.

"Is that her?" James asked.

"Don't you need her parents' consent or something to put her on camera?"

"The audience consents to being on the show when they join the studio audience."

"Whatever, man. I'm not saying another word unless I know they're cool with it."

I looked at Mom and Dad, they gave me a questioning look, I shrugged and they nodded. "It's fine!" I exclaimed.

"Well if it's fine, get down here," James exclaimed.

For a second, I thought he was kidding, but the crew had Rachel scoot down to make a place for me between her and Danno. Everyone was staring. I tried to channel the confidence of Gypsy Rose Lee, rose to my full height and walked down the row, down the steps to the stage.

"Wow. Are you in show biz, too?"

"I'm working on it."

"What's your name?"

"Dreama Ziv Klein."

"Well, Dreama, do you have pipes like Puck?"

"Oh, you must hear her sing!" Rachel exclaimed. "She is wonderful."

"Really?" James asked. "You up to it, kid?"

"Sure!" I replied with all the confidence I did not feel.

"Well, then, after the commercial, you're up." The camera light went off and the host turned to me. "You better be good, kid. I'm bumping a funny bit with a dog for this. I want Emmy fodder. I want people to talk for years about how I gave you your shot. You want to be in show biz? Make this count." He then stalked off to flirt with cute girls in the audience. My hands began to shake.

"What do you want to sing, Drizz?" Danno asked.

"I…I don't know!"

Rachel took my shaking hands in hers. "You've got this, Drizzle. You can do it. This first time, pick a character who can do it. Be her. Be Evita or Annie Oakley or…"

"Gypsy Rose Lee?"

Rachel laughed. "That would be amazing, but let's try not to get your fathers apoplectic your first time in the spotlight."

"No, you're right. Mom's a stickler for 'age appropriate song choices,' anyway. How about Kerrigan-Lowdermilk's 'How to Return Home'?"

"Brilliant! Give me a minute!" Rachel was instantly on her cell phone and simultaneously bossing around crew members. The hair, makeup and costume ladies surrounded me. The costume lady said, "Love the shoes, love the skirt. How about some sparkles?" and before I knew it, she'd thrown an awesome sequined green shirt over my tank top. Then the hair lady gave me a touch-up and the makeup lady attacked my face with brushes. "Don't worry," she said, "It will look natural. It's just that the lights would wash you out otherwise." I nodded, too nervous to say anything. Then they all disappeared, Rachel gave me the thumbs-up, and I was standing in the spotlight. James gave me an introduction that I can't remember for the life of me, and the backing track started playing.

The song starts slow and a little shakey, perfect for how I felt: _"Your bare feet sliding on the old wooden floorboards, Home just as you left it but still you're shaken. Like walking into a museum somehow out of time. It's all the same except the girl in the hallway, Where she's been and who she will ripen into, Your childhood's on the other side of a sprawling divide… too wide._"

The overhead lights were blinding, so I couldn't see the audience, but I caught sight of Rachel gesturing that I should look at the camera with the light on above the lens. I closed my eyes for a second and filled my lungs, then sang the chorus as I gazed into the camera:

"_Take a silent breath. Hold in the change. Tell yourself you still live here. Take your bags upstairs.  
It's the only way you'll get through today. Count the hours. Take a shower. Wash yourself away."_

This came easier than I thought it would. I just knew when to look at the camera, when to look at the audience, when to close my eyes and just be in myself. I felt strong and didn't need to be Gypsy or Rachel or anyone but me.

_The house is pulsing with an alien heartbeat, Was it always here but you never listened?  
It's calling you to be the girl that you were way back then… again. Take a silent breath. Hold in the change. Tell yourself you still live here. Take your bags upstairs. Put away your clothes, take it nice and slow. Be their daughter. Nothing's harder. When nobody knows How to return home._

_How to return home And how to survive, There's no written guidelines. How to go back,  
How to show up and unpack. How to show up. How to grow up. How to take a breath."_

I knew, then, why I had chosen this song. It was in my repertoire because it's age appropriate, something Mom insists on. I've sung it a hundred times, but it never meant anything before. And now it did. All this had changed me, and I was a new person. I took a deep breath to belt the close of the song:

_"Take a silent breath. Hold in the change. Tell yourself you still live here. Take your bags upstairs.  
You still share a name But you're not the same. You don't fight it. You don't hide it. It's a whole new game of how to return home. How to return home. How to return home! How to return home." _

For the first time, I was scared. I had changed everything, and there was no going back.

_"Your bare feet sliding on the old wooden floorboards, Home just as you left it, but still you're shaken._"

And then the crowd was on their feel, clapping and cheering.


End file.
